Scapegoat: Book Four of Sidetrack Series
by Rina K. Fenderson
Summary: Cal Leandros has always had a list of enemies waiting to take a swing and he has taken every blow as a new challenge, a new game for the devil in him to play. But now it's his family that stands as pawns in the bloody death match. Now everyone he loves is hunted by a different enemy and he knows every threat by name.
1. Scapegoat, A Foreword

**SCAPEGOAT**

**A Cal Leandros Fanfiction Novel**

**Book Four of the Sidetrack Series**

**By: Rina K. Fenderson**

**USUAL DISCLAIMER**

**I don't own Rob Thurman's characters or conceptualize world, nor do I obtain any profit from this work. **

**CHRONOLOGY**

**Regarding continuity for Sidetrack series: **Previously, I've tried my best to interweave my little side plots between Rob Thurman's ingenuous novels. After _Doubletake_ my Sidetrack Series veers down its own road, while _Slashback_ takes Rob Thurman's vision to another direction. I haven't given up on having the roads meet again, but for now Sidetrack is off on its own.

It is highly recommended to read the previous novels both for Thurman's published series and my Sidetrack series for this fanfiction to make sense. Starting with _Roadkill,_ the following is the current chronology for this fanfiction:

_Roadkill_ by Rob Thurman

Crossfire (Book One in Sidetrack Series) by Rina K. Fenderson

_Blackout_ by Rob Thruman

Killswitch (Book Two in Sidetrack Series) by Rina K. Fenderson

_Doubletake_ by Rob Thurman

Skintight (Book Three in Sidetrack Series) by Rina K. Fenderson

Scapegoat (Book Four in Sidetrack Series) by Rina K. Fenderson

**Thank you for the support and ENJOY!**


	2. Chapter One - Cal

**SCAPEGOAT**  
**A Cal Leandros Novel**

Book Four of the Sidetrack Series

**Cal Leandros has always had a list of enemies waiting to take a swing and he has taken every blow as a new challenge, a new game for the devil in him to play. But now it's his family that stands as pawns in the bloody death match. Now everyone he loves is hunted by a different enemy and he knows every threat by name.**

CHAPTER ONE

CAL

I had sex the day before I met a god. And it was fantastic; I'm focusing on the sex first, mind you. It was unbelievably hot, raucous, exceedingly satisfying, intense, and all the adjectives and adverbs that would make me feel a little more masculine about the fact that lying with her curled up against me made me happier than I'd felt in a _very_ long time. It wasn't as if we'd never had sex before; in fact, when we first started seeing each other we went at it like rabbits every time we caught each others eye. And honestly, masculinity revived, it was the sex that made me feel that much happier in the after glow. Because we _used_ to go at it like rabbits...it'd been a while. Three weeks, and five days to be exact. Not very long to most, but when I was previously used to at least once a week, it felt like months.

I wasn't as experienced as most guys in their mid-twenties, despite a puck being my best friend. I was half monster after all; born that way, but not raised. I was half Auphe, from my father's side, which meant I was half of the most heinously evil race known to the world as far back as the world went. Most women weren't very attracted to that level of 'bad boy'. Except for Cassie, who, if such cheesy things existed, was my soulmate. She was born from the same heinously evil race, but had the grief of the other half being possibly the most annoyingly righteous and prudent race known to the world since the world was known. And I liked her just fine that way.

I trailed my fingers over her temple to pull a few locks of auburn and dark blond from her face. She hummed softly to assure me she was still half awake, then nudged her nose to my chest and drifted back to sleep. My laziness was bleeding into her. Or it might have just been hormonal fatigue. Castiella had always been nothing short of vibrant. She liked to lounge around on the couch an afternoon or two, but even then she was playful and other times she liked to be as active as my big brother. Which meant Niko and I finally got our compromise; running or sparing every morning with a little mid-day siesta.

My health nut, body-is-your-temple, brother always attempted to drag me around on tasks to hone my senses, skills, and body, mostly because daddy's side of the family was constantly trying for our necks after I fucked up their grand plan to take the world back from the humans. I much preferred watching sitcom reruns and stuffing my face with pizza or any other melty cheesy goodness. It was a constant battle between us for eight years, nah, longer than that. Even when we lived with our greed-driven mother Niko tried to show me how to use weapons properly and tried to force me to run crazy po-dunk town marathons. I guess tried wasn't the best verb. Niko taught me. Niko taught me everything I knew.

I smirked and glanced down at Cassie, skin on her pale shoulders still kissed with pink, still warm and slightly damp from our recent activities. Maybe Niko didn't teach me _everything_; some things I learned on my own. Like how to satisfy a half Auphe, half peri, who was over three thousand years old.

It still amazed me –how we got here. Niko and I running from the Auphe to New York, finally settling down and meeting Niko's inevitable lover Promise and our not-so-inevitable best friend Goodfellow. We killed lots of evil nonhumans, some not so evil that just pissed me off nonhumans, and we saved the world three, maybe four times. The game changed when I met Cassie, because she was like me, she understood and she couldn't have little half Auphe kids...until the humans fucked around with her uterus.

Because, of course, the story couldn't end with two bachelor hunters settling down with a pair of hot, ass-kicking women. Two years ago, Cassie had a baby boy. My baby boy. A hilarious, adorable, sweet, destructive son, with big Leandros-gray eyes and a mop of deep chocolate brown hair. And barely two months after I met him, my relatives spirited him away. We thought him dead. I still had nightmares. Running through a blazing inferno after his little cries of fear and pain. Watching, helpless as the boy's dark head lolled to one side in a werewolf's jowls, neck snapped. It would have been me that went insane and slaughter-happy if I wasn't dying from blood loss at the time, but it wasn't me. Cassie lost it. She killed every werewolf in that place and went on to systematically take out four more Kin hideouts. The werewolf mafia should have known better than to piss off the Harbinger.

But Dante, my scientific miracle of a son, survived. He survived the Auphe and, somehow, made his way home. Now, I knew, he slept in the next room over. Constantly with his eyes on his mother during waking hours. With good reason. Apparently scientific miracles came in pairs. As my suddenly fifteen-year-old son came home to us, we found out he had a baby brother on the way. I was going to be a father of two…since when did I abide by the normal person statistics of the world?

I smiled as I brushed my hand over the small belly of my lover. Three weeks and five days was understandable when her entire body was giving all it had to the little guy renting out her womb. I felt him shifting inside there; I no longer pulled my hand back in disturbance at the sensation. It was only little flutters, no hands pressing to give space –too early for that, I guessed. Not that I didn't think it was still a little creepy, but what else was he going to do when he got too big for his fish bowl and it couldn't be comfortable.

A brief knock on the bedroom door startled me out of my thoughts, but my brother didn't wait to crack open the door to peer in. Both Cassie and I were covered, but not by much. I lifted my eyebrows at Nik and gave him a pleading look. A small smile teased the side of his mouth and he gestured twenty minutes before he dutifully closed the door. He always demanded to be active. Exercise, training, planning missions, something had to be keeping his brain in hyper drive or he was convinced it all deteriorated. It didn't help that our jobs were of an exceedingly low caliber as of late. Kin still avoided us, Grimm – my arch nemesis – was either in hiding or locked up in the Vigil, and the Auphe were watching Cassie grow in anticipation from a distance. They hadn't even bothered to collect Dante again, which was unnerving and that feeling was probably their end game. Wait until we were comfortable and attack when we least expected. Or were they waiting for the newest member of the Leandros clan to be born and off the teat, before they swooped in and stole both my sons from me.

Next to me, Cassie stirred, probably woken by Niko's brief interruption. I shifted my arm over my head so she could stretch. It took a little more effort than usual. She wasn't by any means busting at the seams, actually she wasn't even showing that much, but I knew the changes in her body made everything a little more difficult. Organs were packed in there tightly to begin with, then to have a little creature shifting them around…yeah, still a little creepy.

Castiella's hair cascaded down her pale back when she sat up, hiding most of the scars there and succeeding in stirring a little reaction from below on me. What could I say? Pregnant belly or tight abs, every inch of her body set mine ablaze. I'd even started to love the pink scars on her jaw, a parting gift from our relatives, mostly because when I followed it with my mouth the three jagged lines led me to one of her breasts, which -one could guess- were two of my favorite parts of her body. And right now she was making no effort to cover them and I was making no effort to cover my staring at them.

"Hey," she teased and tipped my chin up with a finger. "Up here, stallion."

I chuckled out a throaty laugh. "Well, I suppose that is an apt nickname. You certainly did ride me for a while there." Her mahogany eyes hooded at my joke and not in that 'what an immature pervert' kind of way. Yet, another thing to love; wit as dry and perverse as mine. Cassie leaned over me, locks of long wavy hair tickling my chest as they slipped over her shoulders. She kissed me with a smirk on her lips.

"It was a good ride," she whispered. It was astonishing how good she smelled. First thing in the morning, after dynamic sex, and she smelled like flowers and...well, sex, but that wasn't necessary a bad smell. I probably had morning breath and stank like a construction worker after a day on a city street job in the middle of summer, but she still kissed me. "I'm sorry." And apologized for it?

I tilted my head in confusion, but she was serious and she looked utterly guilty over something. I'd been with her long enough now that I was starting to read her more subtle expressions. Plenty of practice with Niko Leandros, poker face master, after all. Her lower lip gave off little trembles when she was nervous or guilty and trying to hide it. Of course, my brother's emotive facial quirks were never as sexy. I shifted up on the bed, stuffing a pillow at my back. "Cassie, what are you apologizing for?"

"It's been a while," she replied, explaining that statement further by running her hand over my hip.

"You don't need to apologize for that," I countered. "I'm not an incubus. I'll survive a couple weeks without sex, Cas."

"I guess I just wanted you to understand that the desire is definitely still there," she told me, which I could more than gather during the sex. My gaze unconsciously shifted down and ogled for a moment, before I sighed.

"Alright, if we're going to have a serious conversation you need to put some clothes on. At least a shirt." Cassie smiled, cupped my jaw, and kissed me again. "And Nik's only giving us twenty minutes so you might want to make your decision wisely. Clothes we talk, no clothes...we don't talk as much."

"I can't, Cali. You wore me out." Her dark eyes were squinting in sympathy and her dark blond eyebrows pulled in. Old me would have taken that at face value and either passed out for the rest of the twenty minutes or…nope, passed out would have been my chosen option. After a few years with a woman though, even the densest of men could figure some things out. Like when his lover was feeling guilty and when to press that guilt, whether it was to tell her to suck it up or that it wasn't her fault.

"Clothes it is." I reached down to pick up the closest article of clothing, which happened to be my tee shirt from yesterday. I tossed her the shirt and went back for my boxers that she'd torn off of me that morning. "I want to settle a couple of things, so listen up. One, I love you. Two, I like sex, I don't need it. In fact, it is possible that _you_ like sex more than me. Three, you're fucking pregnant. If you don't want to have sex because everything in your body is going haywire because of the human-size parasite in your uterus I'm okay with that." I kicked off the sheets to pull my shorts on and waited for her to pull on my shirt. "Got it?"

She was grinning at me; the same sly little smile that spoke so much without words. "If we're settling things, then I suppose I should retort," she paused, kneeling on the bed with my tee shirt barely covering her thighs. When she rounded her shoulders the collar gape at the neck, giving me full view of those breasts that I was so desperately trying not to let distract me.

"Okay, really. Please, stop seducing me for two seconds."

The smile, still gracing her full lips, was upon mine for a few brief seconds. "I love you, too. I like sex, too. In fact, it's possible I like the sensation of you inside more than an orgasm." I took in a deep breath at that, mostly because that was spoken in my ear and she was still leaned over me. "The rest is pretty much true and I appreciate your understanding."

I slid my fingertips over the little slight outward curve of her belly; my other hand touched to the scars on her cheek, brushing my thumb over her lower lip. I stretched forward to replace my thumb with my own lips. "Whatever you need, Cas. Rest, pickles and ice cream, sex, if you get me in the right mood I'll even offer up a foot massage. Though I think Goodfellow might be better at it than me." Cassie snickered as I kissed her again, briefly, for good measure. I knocked my forehead to hers and closed my eyes, just taking in her scent for a moment. "I'm not naive either. I know we're passed the halfway point, but even after Connor's born I know there will be very little time for us to be alone—"

"Hey," Cassie cut in. Her expression had fallen just slightly as I spoke, but wasn't an obvious change. "Shut up." I lifted my eyebrows, but couldn't really rebuke when, in a graceful movement, Cassie shucked my shirt off her body and tossed it back onto the floor. "You do that on purpose, don't you?"

"What?" I asked, exceedingly distracted by her crawling over me.

"You know those little speeches of yours make me want to mount you like a wild cat." I laughed at her playful comment and tilted my chin up to take her mouth. I hadn't been trying to entice her – I didn't want to push her after all – but I wasn't going to pass up another go if she was offering. My little speech had been honest. Once Connor was born, even with his big brother and my big brother around to help out, Cassie and I would still be run ragged. So I pulled her against me, savoring the warmth and scent…

"Oh sweet Jesu— I said twenty minutes."

"Nik!" I rolled Cassie down to the bed, quickly covering her with the comforter we'd kicked off either last night in sleep or this morning during sex. She was laughing, hardly shy about her body after being best friends for a thousand years with a puck, who pretty much wrote the Karma Sutra. I, on the other hand, didn't want to be _that_ close with my brother. I tucked the sheet around myself even if I was more covered; my arousal was a bit more obvious than Cassie's. "Knock you, asshole."

He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted both eyebrows. "I said twenty minutes."

"Listen, I know you've got a hard on for this job because it's you might get to see an original legendary work of art, but much prefer the legendary work of art that is currently in my bed and I believe you would hardly think twenty minutes is enough time to appreciate a legendary work of art." Cassie was grinning like a Cheshire cat from her curled position on the bed beside me. I realized why she was smirking like that when I felt her warm palm side over one thigh and under the hem of my boxers. My leg twitched and I gave her a panicked look. "Cas?"

"What?" She managed to look innocent, _sweet_ and innocent, how she achieved that with her hand around my—

"Cassie, please be aware that I am still in the room and have no desire to see my little brother in this position," Niko cut in. His voice made me wilt substantially, which was reassuring, yes, but Cassie wasn't stopping. Instead she was slinking up against my side, drawing her mouth along my jaw. I could see her dark eyes flicker over to my brother with a devilish kind of relish.

"Nik, please be aware that I shared various living spaces with a puck for several hundred years and they were often single rooms; I don't care if you're still in the room."

"I do," I pleaded. This was getting extremely uncomfortable very quickly, especially because several unwanted images popped into my head at her comment. I knew Robin Goodfellow. He opened his door butt-ass naked on more than one occasion both pre and post monogamy status. He once had phone sex with his boyfriend in a hotel room with my brother on the next bed over. I had no doubt he would have eagerly screwed Ishiah if the peri had joined us on that road trip, shared room or not. When he was living with Cassie she had seen the puck in action probably more times than she could count and they'd both confessed to some wild exploits together. No, talking about Goodfellow would not help her current efforts.

"Give me another minute and you won't care if we have an audience of fifty," Cassie challenged in a low tone that ramped up my pulse; _that, _on the other hand, would help her current efforts. As happy as I was to have my rambunctious Castiella back, this was a bit much for even her. I whimpered, caught between screaming at Nik to leave and stopping Cassie's deft hand. I ended up just covering my radiant blush with my arm and praying that Niko would leave on his own. "If it's the position that bothers you, Niko, I can always—"

The door slamming was her answer. I lifted my arm cautiously.

"Is he gone?"

Cassie snickered and nipped at my ear. "Couldn't duck out faster."

"You are the devil, Castiella," I hissed at her, though I couldn't contain my smile. She hummed lustfully in response and caught my mouth.

"And you are adorable when you blush, Caliban."

"Would you have? If he didn't leave?" I asked meekly.

"Doubtful. I just like seeing him blush too." She shrugged as she slipped one leg between mine to brace her body over me. It left nothing to the imagination, except for the brief pang of sympathy pain when I grazed my fingers over the scarring that stretch over the curve of her stomach. The pink shivery lines were jagged, one crossing over the rest a little more violently. They matched the ones on her cheek and across her sternum; each one a war story we tried not to think about.

Her gaze followed my hand, then her own covered it over her belly; her skin was the same pale hue from the same moon-white race as mine. "I can never tell if my stomach is a turn on or not with you," she mused and lifted my chin to brush her thumb over my mouth. "It's only going to get bigger, you know."

"I'd hope so. Right now it just looks like your overate at an all you can eat buffet," I teased, changing the pressure of my hand to clutch at the curve of her waist. "I wouldn't say it's a turn on though, more like…resisting you is impossible no matter what. Knowing you're pregnant with a baby that has a fifty percent chance of being mine just gives me the warm and fuzzies. Makes me proud of my little guys." Even if they were frozen when they were pumped into her without our consent for this baby.

Cassie shook her head in good humor as she gazed down at me. It was an ongoing joke and an obvious defense mechanism. Connor (named by me before he was more than the size of a bean and likewise before we even knew if he was a he) was a product of either artificial insemination with my frozen sperm or the product of rape by a monster that I looked forward to ripping the entrails out of one day. Grimm's goal in life was to create a new, better race to replace the Auphe on their throne of Most Feared. What better way than to render my half-Auphe lover helpless and force her to pop out that army for him? He even tried to get me to go along with it, the asshole. My favorite moment of that whole ordeal was still the look of pure agony on his face when Cassie dug her claws into his dick.

"He's yours, Cali. The baby will always be yours," Cassie told me. His genetics shouldn't matter and to an extent they didn't, but the question would always be in the back of my head; I just couldn't let it show. I cupped the nape of Cassie's neck and guided her lips to mine, trying to pull her confidence out to strengthen me. She gave it to me as eagerly as she surrendered her body. Within seconds, I had my bravado back and, while he had to wait another half hour for me, Niko seemed to approve of my steady post-sex focus.

"Are you ready to go now?" he asked snidely, unable to let my tardiness off without an edged word. I smirked and adjusted my light leather jacket over the Desert Eagle holstered under my arm. Dante was waiting for me too, but he didn't seem to care what I'd been doing before. He was different than most teenagers; no comments on how gross it was that his parents were having sex or complaints about having to do chores. He accepted everything as fact. Mom and dad had to have sex or he and Connor wouldn't be born. Chores needed to be done because hygiene was proven to stave off bacteria and disease and they improved basic motor functions… He was still learning the practice of emotions. I blamed myself for that, but honestly he was a pretty awesome kid despite the Auphe imprisoning him for fourteen years.

"I'm ready," I replied, eyeing up my son to make sure he had armed himself as well. Sometimes Dante seemed to think he was better off without weapons outside of his own body and while he had the wings of a peri, the retractable talons of an Auphe, and the ability to gate, I still felt better when he had a gun or a blade on him. Tonight he opted for, or was forced to carry, two tactical knives. That was enough for me. I looked back to my brother. "So, what's tonight's episode about again?"

"We need to go see a man about a painting," Niko intoned as he finished off his own ensemble with a duster. A little warm for May, but it was the price we paid to make it look like we were abiding by the laws. I snorted at my brother nonchalance. He was a fountain of knowledge and loved anything historical be it human or paien. Actually, paien was even more interesting because he could still find a few tidbits he didn't already know.

"Don't be acting like you aren't excited."

The side of his mouth pinched into a miniature smile. "Maybe a little."

"Glad one of us is," I groused. Even homeschooled I flunked history. I motioned for the two of them to follow me as I headed for the door. "Alright, let's go and get this boring shit done."


	3. Chapter Two - Cal

CHAPTER TWO

CAL

I was never much of an art lover. I enjoyed comics and paged through certain adult magazines that most didn't consider art, but walking through a museum always bored me until we got to the exhibits with the Dinosaur bones or the relic weapons; I was a little boy, what little boy didn't like Dinosaurs and swords? Nik tried his best to expose me to the 'great artists', but even he didn't emphasize the importance of knowing the names or the time periods. I think for him it was merely getting me to enjoy the human side of my emotional genetics. I didn't usually give a painting more than brief nod of 'not bad' or a shrug of 'don't understand, don't care', but the portrait of Dorian Gray was something else. Legendary, yet completely physical and mounted on a wall in a room of some old bitty's posh apartment.

Niko and Dante had debated over of the age of the ornate frame and the parchment used; determining if it was a fake or possibly real, I gathered. I just squinted at the face of this man of puck-level handsomeness like it was one of those magic-eye 3D images. There was something there, under the surface; a ghost or a monster with fangs lurking behind that pale skin and deep, dark eyes. With that long nose he looked like he might have been Grecian or Roman decent. Robin had a bit of the same look; that classic handsomeness that was emphasized by sculptures and art from that time.

"I don't understand, Ms. Arne." Niko was speaking slowly with our client behind me. She was a jackdaw, which meant nothing to me until Nik reminded me of Dodger from the underground bazaar. That squawking thief had looked like a pint-sized pre-teen with the face of a gutter-driven homeless man, he also flipped his shit when he figure out what I was. This woman, this jackdaw, was apparently doing better for herself than the half-literate Dicken's reject we'd met before. Jackdaws chose a human appearance to make their lives easier and this one was living very easy.

Ms. Arne was one of those socialite elitists you saw on period British movies. She wore a rich dress that covered her up to her neck in fabric buttons. I was convinced the little ruffle around her throat was hiding something, but wasn't really willing to strip the old lady to find out. She was petite and frail looking. Misleading, I was sure.

"You say there was a break in, nothing was stolen—"

"I never said a thing about stolen articles," the prissy hag harrumphed. She probably dyed her hair. No way a woman with that many wrinkles had hair that perfectly black. It was surprising she wasn't clutching some fluffy white dog to her chest. Maybe jackdaws weren't partial to canines. Judging by her cluttered décor they certainly like shiny things. "I explained to you already. This is a case of vandalism."

"If you had already explained that to me I wouldn't have bothered to come see you about the job. We aren't the police and we aren't hired hitmen, Ms. Arne." I could feel her eyes on my back as if to point out what I was. I was thankful that Dante had enough peri and human in him that the stink of Auphe was not as prominent. Niko continued on even if this felt like another pointless cause. "We sometimes make exceptions for the greater good, but I can't hunt down a man for graffiti in your sitting room."

She made a strange sound that was both a sharp sigh and a grunt. She clomped over between my brother and me, giving me a great deal of space, and she motioned to the painting I still stood before. "_This_ is not graffiti, boy. This is indication that he has restored himself!"

Niko's head tilted just slightly to one side; he thought this bitch was crazy too. Dante – being younger and still open to flights of fancy – pushed off the side table he'd been leaned against and observed the painting again.

"I know the story of Dorian Gray," he murmured and when I gave him a nod he explained. I knew a little, but my son's precise way of talking always made wrapping my own head around things a little easier. "He was a muse for the painter, Basil – the creator of this piece as Arne wishes us to believe. Dorian made a deal with the devil, or some entity equally demonic, to have the painting age instead of him. He fell into a life of sin and debauchery when given this freedom; the painting revealed these misdeeds through grotesque visual changes to his appearance. He never aged. He continued to commit sin and even kill friends. Dorian became disgusted with himself. He stabbed the painting, which killed him instead, and the portrait was restored."

I could see the old lady shaking in effort not to rant and rave that this painting was the original and the likes of us shouldn't challenge that…again. Dante obviously wasn't convinced this was the real deal, but I wasn't so certain. There was something about it that creeped me out. It was like I could see his sallow skeleton and the disfigurements right under the surface of the handsome douchebag. Either the artist that actually created this portrait was very talented and trying to send out some sort of satirical message, or this shit was enchanted.

"If the painting was restored at the end of the story then why do you think it shouldn't be restored?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder to see if my question would make Arne's head explode. I could see a few little black feathers protruding from her bun, a few more dotting around her crow's feet. She was going to start squawking soon. I couldn't wait for my son's next innocently tactless comment. It was so much fun.

"The written word can be manipulated," she said with an expression not dissimilar to someone eating a lemon. "Dorian Gray is no more human than you are, Aupheling."

"Well, I'm half human, but I have a feeling you're disregarding that fact, so go on."

She wrung her hands in her skirts and made a show of turning toward the painting as if we were performing a theatrical play. "The painting is enchanted, yes, but by his own blood. And each lifetime, when the human features in the painting have all but gone, he sacrifices a life, touches the painting with that blood, and restores himself for another time. The restoration you see before you is indication that it was he who broke into my home and bought himself a new life at the expense of an innocent."

"So you previously had a painting of a horribly grotesque man, embodying all sin, hanging above your mantle?"

She sneered at my dry tone. "I hardly expect you to understand art and the symbolism therein."

"And you want us to do what?" I asked blandly.

She stared at me with those wet yellow eyes, blinking as if the answer was too obvious for her to waste breath on. "Why, I want you to kill him, of course. Make him one of your exceptions. He kills the innocent, after all."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Once every hundred years, yeah? You realize there are people dying daily by monsters far worse than a guy that hasn't realized living forever isn't all its cracked up to be, right?"

"She fears he will kill her next," Dante muttered. He had lost interest in the painting and paced away from us across the lavish parlor. "Reclaim his possession that was obviously stolen from him by a magpie."

"I am _not _magpie, you foul child," she snapped with a shrill cry. She flounced over to Niko as if she knew he was the only one that would listen to reason. Little black feathers flipped out from under her long dress as she passed. I didn't know how long jackdaws lived, but if she had another hundred years on her to worry about him coming after her next time, I doubted he would have to do much more than unplug her life support. "I purchased the portrait by legal means, even for human law. He has no right to be in my home and you have to feel for the children he kills to sustain his pitiful life."

"Children?" Niko echoed. Fuck, that would do it.

Now, I wasn't a heartless bastard. The thought of kids getting murdered wasn't one I liked to entertain, but I knew she was trying to manipulate my brother to get her way. Obviously, Dorian Gray didn't give a shit that she had his painting or he would have taken it a while back. And if Mr. Gray really was a corporal being and not just some interesting story Wilde wrote then obviously destroying the painting wouldn't kill him anyway. As monsters went, offing one person ever century wasn't all that bad. Promise, Robin, and Cassie had all piled up more of a death count themselves. But Buddah-loving Niko couldn't stand for the injustice of one tiny orphan gobbled up on his watch. I could only stand for it if I wasn't watching.

He wasn't idiot enough not to question her though. "Do you have proof that he targets children?"

"How much more pure can you get?" she countered with a lift of her chin. The loose skin under her jaw wavered with the movement. I snuck a glance over at my son, wondering if some children ever had a chance at purity. He had been bathed in blood from his infancy, his mother's blood first and then his own. I had no doubt that the Auphe forced him to kill; it was part of their legacy. Mayhem and blood sport went hand in hand with the inflation of their lungs and the beating of their hearts.

It was an assumption though, Arne's claim. Another story to add to the pile. For all we knew Dorian Gray wasn't even in existence and it was just a trolling artistic cousin trying to screw with this old hag. A break-in indicated a corporal being. The lock wasn't broken, but the keyhole was scratched either from someone with shaky hands and a rough edged key or from someone picking it. Kinda looked like the dummy locks Robin gave me when the puck briefly tried to teach me how to pick them. It could have just been from the times old Ms. Arne hit the moonshine too hard at the bar down the street though. Nothing was stolen or moved, save for this portrait being painted over.

"The distortion is still there," I commented, returning my attention to the portrait. Now that I accepted it, I could see the phantom of his 'true' visage a little clearer. Without hearing him, I felt my son ghost up beside me. He peered at the face with scrutiny. His quick sidelong glance to me vindicated my hallucinations; he could see it too. Maybe it was our genetics living next door to evil itself, or just because we had both been exposed to a world not our own. Either or, Nik didn't seem to get it. In fact, he looked utterly confused as he raked his own gray eyes over the portrait. "Don't worry about it, Cyrano. It's only for the eyes of the tainted."

He gave me a glare for my self-deprecation, but didn't berate me verbally. "Ms. Arne," he shifted his attention back to the jackdaw, "if I'm to be clear, you are hiring us to assassinate the man known as Dorian Gray, not procure an item stolen from you?"

"He's Dionysus trapped in human form. Trapped by this painting, by someone who saw him fit to be dead, but not deserving to die."

"Clearly," I grumbled, then waved her off before she could continue with her rant on about genies being stuffed into bottles by mad hatters and tossed down the rabbit hole of goblin town. "I'm done listening to your bullshit. If my brother thinks this is a worthy venture then we will see to it." I patted my brother on the shoulder as I passed him, heading for the door. "I'm out, big bro. I'm not leaving the wifey alone for this crap."

I was surprised when Dante followed me out of the townhouse apartment. I figured he would jump at the chance to learn more about jackdaws and the infamous Dorian Gray, but instead he trailed after daddy like a little duckling. Maybe he was concerned about Cassie too. We'd been leaving her alone in the penthouse more. Promise was often there to keep her company and it wasn't as if she didn't wander out when she felt like it, but she didn't join us on jobs anymore. It was too risky to have her fighting outside of sparring with me, Dante, and Nik. Not just because of Connor, but keeping her hidden from the Vigil was a priority too. She was obvious. They knew her form and her mannerisms as well as her face. Where as Dante, whom they still thought was dead, unless Grimm told them otherwise, looked like any other guy with his hood up. The Vigil wasn't looking for a teenager just an inch or two shorter than me, they were looking for a toddler that came up to my thigh.

Cassie had gotten pretty used to being left behind. Going as far as to say it allowed her to do the things I didn't like her doing. Not that she hid it from me – secrets weren't kept in the Leandros family – she just tried not to rub my face in her defiance. For one, I wasn't particularly fond of her Skypeing with Salamandier, our once amphibian hacker friend from the Alps. He was fonder of her than either me or my brother and she was more receptive when his information veered into conspiracy territory. That information he fed us was necessary though. Salamandier had a hook in the Vigil's security system and was eager to share his findings.

With everything that had happened with the Vigil, though, and how often that threw us off course with our underestimation of them, I didn't even like my lover speaking the institution's name. I didn't like when she called up Catcher to chat for hours about the most boring shit in the world either, but that was more poorly concealed jealousy. Her amusement with my passive aggressive possessiveness faded quickly with that one, which was why she took the time to call him when I wasn't around.

Now the little pranks she liked to set up, that I was all for. By pranks, I meant booby-traps that could easily maim and possibly kill us if we didn't pay attention. Niko loved those too; he'd finally found someone who would share the tedious task of training his brother. And I enjoyed it, because she got Nik damn good once and it was hilarious. A can of aerosol, a ziptie, and his closet door equaled the best grenade ever. His clothes smelled like Febreeze for weeks. Promise wasn't even angry when she had to dry clean her own clothes and now Niko stalked the penthouse like he was walking through a mine field; he was determined he would never be bested again.

"Wonder what your mom has in store for us tonight," I muttered with a smirk on my lips. When Dante didn't respond I glanced over and saw that far-off look in his eyes.

"Something on your mind, Champ?" Dante started at the nickname, gray eyes fixing on me like a rabbit in a trap. His mind wandered a lot and when it did he got absolutely silent. It wasn't necessarily unhealthy, but Cas and I could both see how it distanced him from the present world. Even if he wasn't reliving wretched memories he was still not experiencing the life in front of him when he did that. Not fully anyway.

"Nothing in particular," Dante responded, which I knew was a lie. There was something on his mind, but since it didn't pertain to our job he didn't feel the need to share it, or didn't see the purpose of sharing it.

I wasn't the sensitive type nor did I like to chat about feelings, but after all my son had been through I didn't like not knowing where his head was. He still hadn't talked to me about Nova. I had to hear from Goodfellow, of all people, that Dante had been close enough to the rebellious peri that he'd slept with her. Even without _those_ lessons, I still knew she'd taught him a lot about himself and who he wished to strive to be. Yet, barely a word about her or her death.

Dante held my gaze with his usual curiosity. Everything was new and interesting to this boy. He even sat through Robin's constant blathering and exaggerations enrapt. Of course, with his default expression being one of intrigue, it could just be that he was that good at feigning interest, but I doubted it. Right now it looked like he was trying to read me, analyze my body language and respond appropriately. Part of me wished he could get a better handle on being 'human' and the other half wish he always looked at everything with curiosity and life. Neither of those halves wished anything darker than that.

I didn't know if it was due to Dante or Cassie's presence, but the dark voice that had been embodying every Auphe thought in my head had become nothing more than an internalized sensation; a little more tangent that the swell of anger burning up the spine, but at least it didn't sound off like a devil on my shoulder as much anymore. I spent some time trying to figure out why it had faded. Wondering if it was just the gaining of better control due to such steady, strong beings at my side, if it was unconscious repression of frivolous things in the face of fatherhood, or if it was simply because I was happy and didn't have as many murderous thoughts when I was happy. I gave up on the psycho-analysis before a single night was through and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. That gift horse being a five-ten, handsome, fifteen-year-old, son.

I reached out and batted at his head. "Stop trying to figure out how I want you to act and just say what you want."

"But I don't want to say anything," Dante replied, rubbing at his head where I'd given it a light smack. Unlike his uncle and father, Dante had opted for a short hairstyle, barely an inch left on each strand. It suited him, showed off his beauty that – dare I say – rivaled the puck's self-proclaimed face of perfection.

Cassie and I really did make a gorgeous kid. He had my stark gray eyes with a similar round shape that managed to look so freakin' innocent on him. He had his mother's full lips, both of our pale complexion, my dark hair with Cassie's lush waves (no surprise, he wanted it cut to something more manageable). Thankfully, he'd gotten my nose, because Cassie's little upturned button would have made him look a little too androgynous. "You seems little distracted tonight."

We were both leaned against the pillars at the bottom of the old hag's townhouse stoop; Dante only stopped when he saw me shift into the relaxed position, giving the stone foundation a quick pace around before settling beside me. "Are we waiting for Uncle Niko?"

"I figured we'd give him a minute or two to wrap it up. You can start home if you'd like," I offered. I had mentioned I didn't want to leave Cassie alone, which was what had probably enticed Dante to leave. He was a bit of a mama's boy.

"No, I'll stay," Dante replied.

I reassessed my son's expression, noting he hadn't removed his gaze from me the entire time I'd been thinking to myself. It was like he was afraid I'd vanish into thin air. He rarely left Cassie or my side when we were outside of the penthouse. Most teenagers couldn't wait to get away from their parents to taste a bit of freedom. One would think being caged up by the Auphe for so long, he would have been even more interested in the exploration of things he was deprived of before.

"Dante, are you scared of this world?"

He shook his head, gray eyes flickering around the immediate vicinity. "No. The world isn't frightening. It's very interesting actually, but I don't like being apart from you or mom. It makes my chest hurt." Dante paused, tilting his head then glancing back at me. "I suppose that would be anxiety?"

I let that sink in for a moment. Amazed that he could say something so touching with a straight face. Unabashed, unashamed. I knew without him explaining further why his chest hurt. Or at least, I could guess. He'd only been with us for a few months now, while he had been searching for us like a distant memory for over a decade in Tumulus and nearly a year on our Earth. He was scared to lose us. If we were out of sight, we were gone. Just like a baby watching their parent duck out of the room.

Without a word, I grabbed Dante up by his nape and tugged him close enough to kiss his temple. It might have looked odd to those passing since Dante looked more like my brother than my son. Plus anyone who knew me, knew I didn't show affection often, even to my true brother who raised me, but Dante was my son and I wanted him to know I loved him. Pride be damned. I lost too many opportunities to hug and hold him because of the Auphe.

Dante offered a small smile for the affection. His light eyes that matched mine so spot on said things his mouth didn't. Cassie always claimed she could read me like a book through my eyes and I was beginning to understand that statement looking upon my son.

"How quickly they grow," a sly voice claimed, thick with an accent that I knew instantly wasn't an accent at all. My hair stood on end at the purring tone, but I attempted to show no other reaction. I'd smelled wolves around us, but in this particular part of town that wasn't uncommon. Just a few blocks from here there was a newly renovated club that catered to the Kin. I should have been more guarded considering their dislike of me and all the troubles my family had caused them. That club had to be renovated from the ground up due to Castiella's vicious and systematic attack a year ago after all. Still, in my wildest dreams I never expected one particular werewolf to ever show her face to me again. This bitch had balls, I'd give her that.

"Delilah," I greeted, bearing my teeth in a manner that had her pause on the sidewalk. Beautiful, snow-haired, exotic Delilah. She stood just feet away from Dante, assessing me and raking those amber eyes over my son – for lack of a better phrase – wolfishly. She chose to approach when Cassie wasn't around. Smart puppy; Cas would have ripped her apart the moment she scented her. I, on the other hand, wanted to play a bit. The devil on my shoulder had lost his voice, but that didn't mean Caliban had left the building. I was still Auphe. I still very much liked to play.

Delilah had saved me once or twice, tried to kill me more than double that, but no amount of intense bedroom antics would save her from her choice to try and take my son from me. She was the reason Dante was taken by the Auphe, maybe not the only reason, but she shared some of the blame. If she hadn't called in the surviving Evati to take out Cassie when she couldn't, we would have never been in that warehouse. Therefore ripping her to shreds was just too kind. And too boring.

I pushed off the pillar, my hands still in the pockets of my jacket. There was a small blade in there with me; my Eagle would be for later. Delilah's long frame was trying to feign relaxation, but I could see the stiffness in her shoulders. She was rolling her weight to the balls of her heeled feet. Maybe my smile was a bit too malicious or maybe she could read my intentions in my eyes like Cassie. My lover had said I'd changed. I'd gained control of the monster. Delilah hadn't seen that last we met.

Just as I hadn't seen the fight between the only female Alpha of the Kin and the Harbinger of legend. Catcher told me it was like a bloody dance. Delilah only survived because she ran and Cassie was more focused on retrieving her kidnapped son. The Alpha of the pack ran; that was something Kin weren't supposed to do. "It's been ages. How's that Alpha thing going for you? Back in the Kin's good graces? Sniffed enough butts to bring your tail out from between your legs after my girlfriend kicked your ass and slaughtered your pack?"

Her lips peeled back to reveal white humanoid teeth. She wasn't of purer blood, but she still could shift between fully human and fully wolf, both forms were stunning. She'd healed nicely too. Her amber-hued skin wasn't flawless by any means, but she'd had scars before I'd even met her. Now they marred her face; the Harbinger's talons had scored down the left side, giving her sultry mouth a permanent sneer and possibly affected the sight of one almond-shaped eye. I could see a bald spot of scar tissue hiding under her flow of white hair where my bullet rented her skull as well. Werewolves could survive almost anything. I was counting on that tonight. I was in the mood for a very long game of cat and mouse. By the subtle change in Dante's posture he was up for playtime as well.

Delilah's eyes flashed between us. I was in front of her now, standing as lax as my anticipation would let me. I could feel my son behind me, circling out into the street. Delilah wasn't stupid; she had a pack with her, but I wasn't sure if it was under her command or if they were edging closer in defense of a packmate. Or just because they hated me. "No, I'm really curious," I pressed on. "What happens to a Wolf who runs from a fight? Demotion? A spanking? Or do they not know what a coward you are?"

She lunged at me and I let her. Even gave Dante a brief hand flick to tell him to stay back. Delilah lifted me up by my jacket front with her super-strength and shoved me back against the pillar. I could feel the stone edge jab into my spine, but I couldn't help but laugh. It didn't matter that my feet were skimming the sidewalk. It didn't matter that physically she might have been of equal strength to me. I was faster. She was a sharp bite, but I was a razor edge. I gaze down at her with hooded eyes. Her canine scent was a little stronger with her fury, sweat seemed to bring that out more. "Struck a nerve, hm?"

"You dare. You dare after all you have caused me. All pain. I gave you what you needed and you drank me—"

"You gave me sex," I snarled back. "Nothing more. You wanted me to think you accepted me for who I am, but all you wanted was a dangerous plaything. All you wanted to was to be able to say you tamed an Auphe in your bed." I shoved her back and flashed a warning glare at another werewolf prowling a little too close to Dante. My son didn't seem concerned at all. He stood with a measured stance and a hand to each of his hidden knives, but he didn't move save for a shifted gaze or the rise of his chest.

"The pain wasn't caused by me, Delilah. You did that all yourself. You got too ambitious and it backfired. You tried to kill me, you tried to kill my friends, you tried to kill my lover, and you kidnapped my son and nearly got him killed. Do you really wish to compare pain?" Delilah lunged again, but this time I caught her throat and spun her into the pillar, hard enough I could feel the foundation shudder under our feet. She whined and sunk her human teeth into my arm; the attack was a sacrificial one. She was choking herself with my hand in order to draw blood, hoping that I would drop her from the pain.

I leaned down to catch her amber eyes. "I can take a lot more than that, 'Lilah. You know that."

She spat my blood at me and hooked her heel behind my knee. That worked in breaking my grip. I stepped into my stumble and spun back to aim a quick-drawn gun at the white wolf that now crouched in place of the lean female. She still had my blood on her teeth, was kicking out of her skintight jeans. Dante's eyes had fixed on her in interest, then flickered over to the next werewolf shifting form. I almost laughed; my son was a freakin' sponge, I swore. The Leandros line must have had a learning gene that was only passed down to one child per generation. Me and my mother obviously didn't get it, but Niko sure did and so did Dante. New experience, new chance to learn something.

Delilah snarled something at me that might have been a comeback, but I wasn't fluent in wolf-speak, so I could only assume it was a big fuck you. I felt the air shift, something approached to cause the wolves lying in wait to excrete a bit of fear. I slid my eyes to their corners and saw a T-1000 lumbering out of the alley. He walked like his muscles were getting in his way, but he stuck out his chest with pride anyway. His skin was almost as black as a panther's which made it hard for my human eyes to see him until his yellow eyes bore down. If his stench of manly dog in a steroid gym didn't give him away, those black eyes with their yellow ringed irises would have done the trick.

"Bitch," he commanded. I lifted an eyebrow, wondering for a moment if he was talking to me.

Delilah disengaged, trotted around me and over to the behemoth that had entered the arena. Well, that answered the question of Alpha, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth instead of giving vindication. Delilah was bowing to him. Even when she was a peon in a pack, she always showed a fiery spark of defiance. I'd though it was something she refused to shed. Seeing her sit before the meaty form of this werewolf nearly bursting out of his skin was sickening. Within my glee of playing with a worthy opponent dried up and my gun lowered.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Delilah?" I growled. "Are you going to blame me for this too?"

"Speak to me," Goliath snarled. His voice was so mangled by his werewolf linage that I barely understood that. His teeth didn't seem to fit in his mouth, as thick and sharp as they were. "I Alpha. She mate."

I narrowed my eyes. I already knew Delilah couldn't have children, or puppies, or whatever werewolves popped out. She had been slash through the belly long ago as a punishment and that injury made her barren. So the only meaning behind 'mate' was that she was his property. When I had spoke about butt sniffing this is was not what I had in mind, but I should have. I knew the Wolves, I knew their mottos and mantras. If you couldn't fight and you couldn't lead you were food or a fuck. Delilah was a desirable enough trophy almost having a half Auphe in her grasp several times as well as almost obtaining the Kin's precious All-Wolf. Not to mention I knew she was gorgeous by both human and Wolf standards.

"You've stooped to this?" I asked Delilah, ignoring the Terminator beside her. She wouldn't even look at me. "You're letting this prick screw you like a dog just because you lost a few fights?"

The werewolf commanding her lumbered forward a few steps. "Speak to me," he barked again. "Or die."

There was a flicker of movement to my right, then a smudge of cream and charcoal slammed into the black werewolf's chest. He hadn't been expecting that and even if he had, the weight of a nearly full grown man caused him to stagger. Then there were two tactical combat knives shoved into this eyes and that was all she wrote. A werewolf could survive without a limb, but not a brain. Dante, still poised on the huge wolf's barrel chest, twisted the blades and Goliath made an awful groan as he tilted and fell back to the street with the crack of a small building collapsing. Dante remained on top the whole way down, like a giant spider monkey. He held the two blades, still buried deep in the Alpha's skull, and shot a look at the white wolf skipping back on graceful legs from him.

"Don't allow them to debase you," he hissed at her. I could hear the tongue of our ancestors slipping into the words like shards of sharp ice down an already frozen back. Delilah's ears flipped back and she lowered her head to growl. I aimed my Eagle at the nearest living werewolf, waiting to see what Dante did next.

He yanked the blades out of the dead Wolf's head and stood on his chest like a lanky David. "My father has spared you, time and time again, not because he fears you but because he pities you. If you wish to gain his fear, first gain his respect." He stepped down from the slewed giant, directly in front of Delilah. "To do so you must first respect yourself."

I stared at my son for a long moment. In a fashion he was right. I hadn't killed Delilah first because I felt I owed her something, then because she was failing so horribly at trying to kill me it was sad. When she attacked Dante when he was a baby, all bets were off. Tonight had just been about fun until I saw her weakness. Dante hit the nail on the head; I didn't pull the trigger because she was pitiful. Easy, boring, prey. Dante made it sound much more eloquent, but the gist was there and Delilah would get it. Not that it mattered much, the others didn't get the memo and in a second the werewolves attack as a pack. That didn't matter much either.


	4. Chapter Three - Josh

CHAPTER THREE

JOSH

My father taught me many things before he died in a war he should have never fought. Taught me how to be a man and how not to be a misogynistic jerk about it. How to protect a woman both from her insecurities and from the sick monsters wishing wicked things upon her. He taught me how to fire a gun and, more importantly, when to lift your finger from the trigger. He taught me discipline, courtesy, and control.

The latter of which, I was practicing as best I could at the moment. Count to four, breathe in, four again, and out. "You can't be serious right now." Sometimes my best wasn't enough. And sometimes I just couldn't practice what my father preached. Like when my fiancé decided it was a better idea to rush to the side of her half-demon ex-boyfriend than the team of well-trained individuals devoted to the sole purpose of protecting beings like her. Human, fragile, and in very real danger.

Georgina King stood before me on the sidewalk, an overstuffed duffle bag held in front of her with two hands and her shoulders rounded forward with the weight. My own training implied those gestures as submissive, but I knew better. George had that look in her eyes. That fiery one that turned captivating brown into the embers of a brushfire.

Her jaw was set, her feet planted firmly, and her mind made up. I didn't need her reply to know this wasn't a joke. "Yes, I'm serious. I'm going to New York. It will be the safest place for me right now."

"The safest place." I choked on my laugh. "George, that island is teeming with monsters. The Vigil chapters there can't even contain the chaos."

George shook her head, lush red curls bouncing about her shoulders as if to emphasize her frustrations. "The supernatural in New York have no qualms with me. I don't need to fear them. The monster after me is a trickster that predates humanity. I feel pretty certain that my location means nothing to him. In fact, the chaos of New York could hide me from him and Cal—"

I let off a growl and turned toward our apartment complex behind us. Cal. This argument kept coming back to Caliban Leandros. I couldn't understand why she put so much faith in that guy. He was half-sane at best and regardless to the fact of how many times he'd saved her, _he_ had been the reason she needed saving. He had denied her affections for that very reason, which might have been the smartest decision he'd ever made in his life. And she had let him go, for the same reason and many more. So why did it make sense to her to return to trouble when danger was already following?

We'd already made the move to Boston for the same reasons she just sited. Anonymity went a long way in a metropolis when you were trying to play dead in the eyes of a monster. We were hidden here and we both left good jobs for that safety. Now she wanted to fly off the handle to a dirty city that was filled with as much sin and monsters (both human and non-human) as Las Vegas. It made little logical sense, but somehow I doubted she would see my reasoning. For one, I didn't trust Caliban.

Training with the Boston Chapter of the Vigil had given me clearance to certain information not readily available to humans. I'd learned more about Caliban and his genetic make-up and it only gave more fuel for my distaste in this decision. George needed protection, there was no argument there, the puck named Hob was not an enemy I could best on my own, but her desperation in seeking out a man with an even larger target on his back was ridiculous. "George, please, this is not a good idea. The Vigil in Boston can protect you far better than Caliban can."

"Cal knows this enemy, Josh. He's defeated him once—"

"Apparently not."

"He saved me," George cut in, not impressed by my interjection.

I shook my head. "You wouldn't have been in any danger if it weren't for him in the first place."

"In this instance that isn't true, but what would you have me do? Huddle down in one of the Vigil's white rooms; the ones where they keep their experimental pets?"

Of course, it would come to those outlandish rumors. These arguments had started as soon as I decided to become an apprentice with the Vigil. I was, as George put so well, wanting to know my enemy. Know how to defend against said enemy and protect those I loved from those enemies. I wanted to protect the humans from beings far stronger and older than us. It wasn't the time for tired arguments.

I wrapped my good hand around one of those rounded shoulders, trying my best not to loom over her small frame. "George, please, hear me out."

"I've been hearing you out," she countered a little more softly. "Josh, I love you so much, but your only argument is one completely invalid. Caliban has never hurt me, despite what you may think about his lineage. Most 'non-humans' just want to live their lives."

"Most non-humans live by the means of killing humans," I amended. "You and I know this. It isn't the tiger and the gazelle either. It is something much more visceral and violent. I've always understood your hesitance when it came to the Vigil. Some of their ways bleed dangerously into the gray area, which is why I've never asked you to join me before _and_ why I chose the more progressive Boston Chapter. But this is neither the point nor a reason to condemn my logic. I need you to come with me to their facility, George. Going to Caliban will only put you in more danger."

"Cal can protect me."

"What if Grimm's there? You know his intentions. You _saw_ his intentions in a very violent way."

George shook her head, those soft eyes closed to painful memories she hadn't wanted to recall. I cupped her cheek with my hand, leaning forward to brace my forehead to hers. She was such a special woman. In her essence and in her beauty, but it was her power that drew the devils near, human and otherwise. She was a seer and one whose powers were only growing day by day.

The Vigil already watched her, already made propositions and pleas for her to join them, but she refused. Either she saw something devastating in that future or she just believed in the rumors of certain chapters become more cultist scientists than guardians to the human race. If so, she believed those misdeeds enough to cast them off as an option and for a time even tried to discourage me from joining. It was the only thing she'd ever discouraged, but she felt too sympathetic toward beings of all kinds. She tried to see the light in everyone since she had so much illuminating within herself, but some monsters thrived in darkness despite her wistful thinking.

The Vigil wasn't the only interested party either. That was why I joined the Vigil. The shooting range would perfect my aim, but I needed to know the target. I needed to know the monster's weakest point and the Vigil were all I had to enlighten me regarding that. Every day, every night I could see the shadows creeping close to her like a moth to a flame. Predators sought her out for their own pleasures or their thirst for power. Because of my father and because of the Vigil I had been able to defend her from them so far. There had only been two exceptions.

The first had been Grimm. The reason I would never trust Caliban Leandros. George had met him in Ohio where she taught as a teacher's assistant. She spoke to me about him with the disillusion that he was something more than evil. She taught him, treated him as equal as any other. She believed that red-eyed monster was just as salvageable as her first love and I trusted that judgment. I let her alone with him. I should have trusted my gut. She should have seen it coming.

The thanks she received was his callous attempt to kill her, right in her classroom behind a closed wooden door. Our only blessing was that he didn't care enough to check the papers for his scrapbook. Georgina never died that day; she just made him see the death he desired with those gifts she had, blossoming with more power every month. From her shaken words to me that night, it was a death too gruesome for even a horror movie. "Grimm believes I am dead."

"Only because you made him see such." I tilted her head up by her chin. "You can only fool him with your powers for so long. If he sees you again he will know—"

"I was just another teacher, another kill, to him," George murmured in defeat. Grimm had been the first being she'd ever had to give up on. She refused to look into the future to see what danger he drew up inside himself and because of that she nearly died. It wasn't the first time though. "He wouldn't even notice me passing him on the street."

"You stand out, George."

"I'm going. I'm not asking you to join me, but I'm going." She gazed up at me with that spoilt expression, tough and ready to storm off if need be. I bent down and brushed my lips over hers. She dropped the bag to wrap her arms around my neck. Her deepened kiss stretched the healing skin of my split lip, but I didn't stop even as I knew we both tasted the blood. "I love you, Josh."

A car pulled up directly behind her on the curb and I clutched her to me in a moment of paranoid fear. It wasn't a van or posh sedan with tinted windows swinging up to snatch her away, though that had happened before. It was a taxi and, by the short glance back, she had been the one to call it. I didn't let go of her. "You called a taxi?"

"I told you, I'm going."

I shook my head. "Then I'm driving."

Her lips formed a small pout. I could tell she wanted to plea for me to stay. Considering I couldn't even wrap my other arm around her due to a thick cast, it wasn't hard to comprehend why she didn't want me to go. My face was a story of what happened two nights ago, painted in purples, yellows, and reds, but that wasn't going to stop me. I couldn't protect her. Cal couldn't protect her, but maybe if I could shove my ego aside for twenty seconds the two of us could give her a fighting chance. "Unless you can honestly tell me that you looked and everything works out without me being there, I'm going with you."

"You know I didn't look," George whispered. She didn't look often anymore. She never liked what she saw and it just made her sick to hold knowledge better left unknown. I brushed an auburn tendril back from her face and lifted my eyebrows. Her response was a rueful half smile. "You better get packing then."

George apologized to the driver, even offering him a tip, though she wouldn't need his services. The driver casted a confused look between George and me, then took the money and sped off. The moment of hesitation made me want to believe if the images were flipped and Georgina was as beat up as I was he wouldn't have left unless she was in the taxi. As it was, it looked like I'd gotten into a nasty bar fight and lost. George tucked herself under my good arm and plucked her bag off the sidewalk. "I guess we're buying another plane ticket too, because that taxi was taking me to the airport."

I groaned. I hated planes, but that wasn't the plan either. "We're driving."

"It's a six hour drive."

"If we're going to see Caliban, I can't let the Vigil know, which means I will have no weapons at my dispense unless we drive." Airlines personnel didn't take too kindly to people who tried to fly handguns and ammo to New York City.

Georgina gave my waist a little squeeze, a gentle one since my ribs were still throbbing. She knew the sacrifice I was making. Even if I was only an apprentice, the Vigil would have my badge and my head should they find out I went to converse with a Red Flag fugitive under high surveillance without command or even warning. George didn't want the Vigil involved and I was trying to respect that, but if things went south…I wasn't beyond putting a bullet in Caliban's kneecap and whisking George away into one of the Queens Chapter's high security safe houses. Unfortunately, killing Caliban would postpone my happily ever after with George. Permanently.

With a considerable amount of hesitation, we headed back into our apartment. I didn't feel much like home anymore and it wasn't just because my blood soiled the carpet. It had been broken into, we had been threatened there. Even a normal human wouldn't feel right in their own home after that.

I lost. There was no doubt about that. The second blow to my ego was two nights ago; the second villain that I had no hope in protecting Georgina from. A quick knock on our front door and a puck strolled in as if there had been no lock in place. He was the same arrogant, handsome prick as any other puck. Leshy had been the only exception to that pan stereotype. This one invited himself in, introduced himself to me as The Hob, but claimed he and George had already been acquainted.

"I've been waiting to see this little cherub again," the puck had cooed, while I screwed on the silencer for my Berretta. With a lurid smile he lifted my fiancé's chin. "We have unfinished business to attend to."

I plugged a bullet in his knee. I don't remember much after that. Pain, a lot of pain. Chords of words between the rushing of blood to my ears. George pleading for Hob to stop. Hob making demands or warning her of something. It was all a blur. When I came to, my clip was empty, my arm broken, my face beat to a pulp, and my torso carved up like a turkey from that dated piece of steel he waved about. George had a light bruise on her cheek and a little cut just below her hairline. She was huddled over me in tears, but by her account I kept shooting at him even after he broke my arm. Not that it did much to deter him.

If he had wanted George he could have taken her that night. Pans weren't known for simplistic violence, but if they wanted something enough they would take it whether it was stained with blood or tears. His attack on me was only to subdue me. Although it seemed I fought valiantly even half-conscious, it was understood that he could have easily killed me. George had stopped him. He only dirtied his hands to manipulate her. My torture would end when she agreed to whatever he wanted, which – as she told me later in the hospital – was her gift.

The puck wanted to know the future as well as he knew the past. It was ultimate power for a being that already had so much. And George told me this wasn't the first time he had attempted to gain it. She told me how close he had gotten before. Further reason not to run to Caliban's side. If Hob already had the Calabassa he only needed a Romani sacrifice and what better than the brothers of gypsy blood that had thwarted him before? He didn't take George because he wanted her to seek out Caliban; it was unsaid, but obvious. He didn't kill me because he wanted me to assure that his fragile cargo reached that destination. Hob knew George would not give her gift to him docile, belly up. She would run and he knew this. He was counting on it. Georgina had to know this as well, but her only concern was reaching Caliban to warn him under the guise that she 'needed his protection'.

"I wish you would look," I murmured as I shoved loaded magazines in with a few spare shirts and jeans. Clothes were not a necessity right now, weapons were and I planned to shove as many as I could into my duffle. Grenades and a high-grade taser were nestled among socks and toothpaste. I thought better of it and shoved the tazer into my back pocket. High electric pulses were an effective defense against the Auphe's gating technique.

"Some things are meant to be unknown," George sighed. She stood by the door to our bedroom, waiting patiently for me to collect my things. "My gift isn't supposed to be used to cheat death, Josh."

"So it's just to give false hope then?" I turned to her, feeling my temper flare a little. "You always said it's better to be surprised or it would spoil the ending, but don't you see that we are walking right into a trap? You have the ability to see where the trip line is. You could save us all a lot of pain and possibly death if you would just look to see how to end this!"

A soft, sad smile turned her lips up at the corners. I hated that expression. It was one that told me I would never understand and I should stop trying. "You're already starting to sound like them."

"_They_ make a very logical point," I countered. 'Them' was returning to the Vigil. My superiors, my trainers. "Your gift could save the humans from the preternatural."

"Or kill us all," she whispered. Her eyes were glistening even as she continued to smile. I checked my temper and focused on zipping up the bag. There was no use arguing with her. I would never wish to force her into a position she adamantly felt was against her spirit. She felt the Vigil would abuse her power and who knew? There were enough flaws in the human race that such a concept was not irrational. I wouldn't be able to talk her out of this pilgrimage either. All I could do was, guard her, protect her, and pray that I would see her live…even if it was with my dying breath.

"Hopefully this asshole is as amazing as you think he is," I groused and slung the bag over my shoulder. "Let's go."


	5. Chapter Four - Cal

CHAPTER FOUR

CAL

I never thought I'd become one of those guys; the one's whose eyes lit up all warm and friendly the moment their girlfriend walked into the room. It was completely against my nature, but I smiled all the same. It had been a long night, between listening to old mother Hubbard rant on and on about her painting, then the werewolf fight, then we came home to find Cassie curled up in pain on the bathroom floor.

There was no blood, but it wasn't often I saw a creature with such a high pain tolerance doubled over and claiming she couldn't move for it. I collected her in my arms and off we went. I knew that it wasn't something she ate or that she got hurt from a pre-mature booby-trap going off. For a heart-pounding hour, I thought we might lose Connor or Cassie and both thoughts had caused me to shake.

I took her to Katherine, the healer Promise had set her up with a few months into her pregnancy, who assured us everything would be taken care of. She then took care of it. I didn't know what she did, but she said it wasn't a miscarriage; just a 'slight complication' whatever that meant. She still demanded Cas stay with her for the night, but refused to have me in her house. She was a vampire – a breed that didn't particularly care about the Auphe one way or another – but apparently I'd let her lamia lover get killed by kidnappers a while back and she would never forgive me for that. One, I needed to pay more attention to our jobs because the only lamia I remembered was eaten by Black Annis and I had been fairly certain that client had been a man. And two, how the fuck was that my fault? They had eaten her before Nik and I had even got to the rendezvous point!

No amount of bickering helped my case, but at least Katherine liked Dante well enough and allowed him to stay at his mother's side with Promise. Niko and I were exiled from the brownstone. If the bitch vamp hadn't just saved my baby and possibly my lover as well I might have had something more to say to her in the form of edged steel. Cassie was awake though and pleaded for me to be nice and come back for her in the morning. I could do nothing, but obey. With Rafferty across the US, Katherine was the only healer in town willing and able to help Castiella and _not_ inform the rest of the world that the Harbinger was pregnant again.

I couldn't sleep though, not a chance. So I drug my ass to the Ninth Circle to help with the last few hours of serving and kept my hands busy. Nik camped out in at the table in the back corner, researching our new job and casting concerned gazes at both me and his cell phone. Promise and Dante gave their word to call if there were any changes. Apparently, that only counted for changes for the worse, because just an hour before closing time Dante waltzed in with my girl in tow. Hence the bright smile on my face that nearly had Samyel backing away with a cross.

Cassie sat down at the bar stool across from me, leaning over the surface to drop a kiss on my lips. "Before you ask, I'm fine."

"Should you really be up and about?"

"Katherine says that everything is perfectly fine and I'm free to go home."

I smirked. "So she said you were doing well and you demanded to go home."

"Close enough," Cassie shrugged. I shook my head and pulled out a bottle of water for her. While my co-workers had grown accustom to my presence, they still preferred Cassie's, which was odd since she had been the one to kill a thousand of their ancestors. Granted, the peris at this bar weren't the traditionalist that other clans were, in fact most of them didn't have clans for one reason or another. Regardless, when Cassie was around they let her distract me without complaint.

Samyel once said that every second Cassie smiled there was one less body to clean up. It was true enough; when my lover was happy she had a tendency to be more tolerable to those around her and therefore managed to keep me in check. But if Cassie wasn't happy…well, lately she'd been worse than me when it came to maiming the regulars. Hormones were a bitch, right?

As tough a cookie as she was I didn't like her out (especially at a bar like this) after the scare we just had. I gave my lover a dubious look for a little longer, not letting up even as she unscrewed the cap of her water and took a gulp. Cassie avoided the eye contact. Instead she pretended to be monitoring our son as he made his way over to Niko, happy to help in with research –no doubt – and content as long as mom and dad were in view.

The patrons still eyed him like they didn't know what to make of him. He was obviously a Leandros, obviously mine, but I wondered if most paien assumed he was another brother instead of a son. I'd let them think whatever they wanted as long as it meant they would leave us alone.

I tapped Cassie's water bottle to get her attention. She was reluctant to give it and I had a good idea why. "Are you sure you're okay? Because I'm not dealing with losing you again. Three strikes and you're out."

Trying for jokes, no matter how half-hearted they were, earned me a small smile and she met my eyes. "Technically, I've made the mistake of leaving you more than thrice already."

I liked that, 'the mistake'. I didn't like, however, that it was true. "Yeah, but you've only died twice and I'd like to keep it that way." I stepped to the side to let Samyel take care of a revenant that flopped into the barstool next to Cassie. I watched my girl's little nose wrinkle up immediately. Super-smelling was the short end of the super powers stick and we both got it, but at least she got hawk-vision from her peri lineage too.

"I'm not as fragile as you seem to think, Cal, and neither is ou—" she cut herself off, almost gagging when the decayed creature beside us lifted his arm to kick back a shot of something that smelled like rubbing alcohol. Probably the cheapest vodka we had. Cassie didn't like to admit weakness, but there were aspects of her pregnancy that affected her like any other woman. Super-smelling didn't help. "Connor," she amended, "isn't that fragile either, so stop worrying so much."

Cassie had stopped herself for more than just the revenant's stench. Announcing she was pregnant would tag her as an easy target to the dredges seeking a reputation or power. Not that she was, but I'd rather her not exert herself by killing those idiots all the same. It also might officially label Dante as our son, which would then cause some panic. Right now, the paien community was trying to puzzle out all the rumors. If Castiella was the mythical Harbinger or only a peri with weird taste in men. If Dante was a brother or my son or Niko's kin (his hair color actually matched Promise's more than mine or Cassie's), which was more curiosity in how much Auphe Dante actually was, if at all. The less they figured out the better. Most of the rumors claimed the Harbinger long dead and many whispered that the little peri, Castiella, was barren. I liked that gossip; made my life easier. I'd have to thank Robin for all his rumormonger-ing later.

"Cas, I still think you should be taking it easy," I pressed. Cassie made a little growling sound that indicated her temper rising. My insistence, the reeking revenant, and her already haggard mood were about to spiral into an outburst. I stepped back. Not sure when she got them from behind the bar, but a pair of silver tongs flipped in her hand. It was a warning and while I acknowledged the warning the revenant didn't notice or didn't care to. Instead, he belched. I cringed and watched the fireworks.

The bluish moron didn't notice the tongs nailing his arm to the bar until he moved to drink his second shot. Cassie's eyes, flashing golden, flickered to the exit pointedly. "Take the bottle and take your stink elsewhere." She yanked out the tongs, which could not longer be used for ice or lemon wedges no matter how many sanitations.

The revenant bared blackened teeth, perturbed by her demands. Apparently, he'd never seen a pissed peri in action. He opened his mouth to bay at her. Cassie held up her hand to stop him. "I'll pay." She snapped. Her hand closed to a fist and like a puppet on strings the revenant's mouth snapped shut. He took the bottle and glass and off he went. Strange, they weren't usually so intelligent.

When he was gone, Castiella let off a sigh and slumped down on the bar counter. I sprayed down the surface and made quick work of the goo and dead skin the glorified zombie left behind. The bar was still filled with various odors, but none as offensive. I was glad the Selkies that had been frequenting the bar weekly hadn't showed up tonight. They smelled like sushi a week old in the sun.

"I heard about Delilah," Cassie called as I went about serving a few customers while she composed herself.

We had a good crowd sitting at the bar even near last call. Regulars, who knew me and who knew that tone when it came from a woman. A vampire handing me his payment offered a sympathetic cringe, muttering good luck before returning to his dates at a table. Great, now our relationship issues were on blast.

I stalked back over to Cassie and leaned in to whisper to her, making my irritation known. I loved her and I would deal with a lot, especially because I knew her hormones were haywire, but I wouldn't tolerate a tone that condescending. "I'm not too happy about it either, Cassie. If you remember right she tried to kill every single one of my family and friends at one point or another. I'm sure you heard about it from Dante too, who was actually the one to save her sorry ass this time, so don't used the accusatory girlfriend tone with me."

"Hey, stop, stop," Cassie whispered, cupping my face gently. Her expression had dropped its tough and grouchy tightness and now captured one that embodied guilt. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to embarrass you. I'm not mad at you, or accusing you of anything." She pressed forward and gave me a kiss. "I just wanted to talk to you about Dante."

I took in a deep breath, let it out through my nose. There were too many monsters that actually _knew _who I was at the bar tonight, among them a lot that I couldn't or shouldn't show weakness to. I didn't really want to be seen as whipped anyway. Plus I didn't need the Kin at the table near the door to know I'd slaughtered another one of their packs. Delilah only survived because she decided not to fight and Dante and I (and eventually Niko) decided to respect that. "What about Dante? He did a pretty good job tonight."

"I'm concerned about some things he said to me."

"Dante?" I snorted. "I'm always concerned about things he says, but there's no hidden meaning there. He says what he means."

"Then he has some major issues with women being abused," Cassie countered with a raise of her eyebrows. I shot a glance over at my son as I processed that. It was clear that he disliked Delilah bowing down to the meathead he pounced on, but I hadn't really considered why. His mother was defiled by Grimm, the bastard, when she was most vulnerable. His brief girlfriend – at least, that was what I assumed Nova was – was also taken by Grimm with her family _and _she was killed by the Auphe.

"Well, his track record with women is pretty grim," I replied, realized my unintentional pun and promptly wanted to punch myself in the face. Cas seemed to find it amusing, though she shook her head at me. "He spared her. Delilah. Told her she needed to become something we respected before we fought her seriously. Then she hit on him."

I loved watching that maternal look flash across Cassie's doll-like features. It was a look few survived trifling with. Her full lips thinned out and one dark blond eyebrow arched up as she tilted her head. "Excuse me?"

"After the fight. After his speech," I told her. I'd been a bit insulted when it happened. Delilah had slept with me for a few months after all, I didn't like being cast off for the younger model at twenty five. Now, I just found it amusing. Shifting back into human form in all her naked glory, Delilah had walked right up to Dante, almost against him –stepping over the bodies of her pack – and declared he was her new target. As werewolves went, that was pretty much as good as 'I'm going to screw your brains out later'. Killing often followed the post-colitis bliss, but I wasn't going to let it get as far as the bedroom to begin with. "She said she wanted Dante's respect, not mine, and she would earn it."

Cassie's jaw clenched; she seemed to gather the rest of the picture without me having to paint it and I knew she didn't appreciate Delilah meddling with her family and lover again. "I'm not beyond becoming the parent with a shotgun on the porch."

I grinned. "Forget the shotgun, I'll led you my Eagle." She gave a short nod and we were in agreement: Delilah was not allowed near our son.

Seeing Samyel close by, Cassie flagged him down and told him that she paid for the revenant's booze to get him away from her. Sammy laughed. "It was cheap, half empty, and if you hadn't offered that courtesy I would probably be cleaning up dead bits of revenant and trying to cease a riot. Give us five and we'll call it even."

"Deal," Cassie replied. She leaned over the bar again, this time instead of a kiss she stole a five from the wad of tips I had in the half apron around my waist. She slapped the five dollar bill on the counter for Samyel, who plucked it up before I could do more than give a stern look.

"What?" Castiella asked innocently. She grinned around the mouth of her water bottle, flashing a little bit of teeth with hooded eyes. "I'll make it up to you later."

"How about you make it up to me by going home and getting some rest?" As much as I liked having Cas at the bar to while away the hours, right now I wanted her tucked away with her feet up. More than Connor, more than my unborn son, I didn't want to lose Cassie.

"Fine, if it will get you to unclench your sphincter so you can get out all this bullshit, I'll go home. I'll even take a protective escort with me," she teased. I couldn't help but smile ruefully at her comment. I did love her crassness. "But first I would like to help you and Nik solve your little mystery of the fabled portrait."

"Nik's on it. Go to sleep."

She gave me a pout as she slid off the barstool, undeterred by my short tone. "The jackdaw called him Dionysus, yeah?" I assumed that was Dante again, giving her the run down of our meeting as well as what happened after. I certainly couldn't recite the name verbatim. Castiella was giving me that coy smirk, the one I saw too often on Goodfellow's face when he knew something I didn't.

"I'm sure you know his Roman counterpart went by the name Bacchus as I'm also sure you recall you're acquainted with someone who claims to have met the god."

I rolled my eyes at the condescending lift of her chin. "Goodfellow claims to know everyone."

"He's not always lying, Caliban," Cassie informed me, then blew a kiss over her shoulder. "Goodnight."

I frowned; she rarely left without giving me a real kiss. One that often made onlookers shift in discomfort. "Hey, Cas."

"I said I'd make it up to you, but I never said when." She was out the front door without her escort, which told me she wasn't pleased with our conversation either. Dante was out of his seat and following like a little puppy a second later. When I glanced over at Niko, he was shaking his head with a minute smile; he probably wasn't even finished his sentence when Dante walked off, but mama always came first with him. The overprotective stalking didn't help my case when I did the same.

I motioned to my brother that I planned to stay for another hour. There was a reason peris were feared in war and I'd already seen my girlfriend rip off the balls of someone who tried her patience. It was best to leave my lover some time to cool off before I pressed my luck with tailing her too.

I found out the next morning that Niko declined the job, but that didn't mean we were done with it. My brother's interests were piqued and that meant we were still on the hunt for Dorian Gray, we just didn't agree we would kill him. That also meant we were forgoing yet another pay out. I didn't mind using Promise as a sugar momma. What with five dead husbands and an inheritance from each the vampire had money to burn. My brother wasn't as progressive as my thinking though and already had another job lined up for the night; extermination of some strixies that had invaded a rooftop garden of some posh high rise, picking off little frou-frou dogs that wandered a bit too far from their owners at night.

It was a cakewalk, but it would get us paid and Niko would relieve some of his indentured emasculation towards his girlfriend. Cassie said she would gladly sit this one out for the sheer boredom factor, but Dante was enlisted to join by my brother, who had made it his personal quest to train father _and_ son until he felt we were strong enough to skin a troll without assistance –that was if Nik and I hadn't already killed the last known troll under the Brooklyn bridge several years ago.

There was time to kill until the owl hunt, which Niko filled with exploring ancient lore and I spent on the couch with my lover tucked under my arm watching documentaries about what would happen to the world should the humans suddenly die out. I supposed it would be plausible if the paien were eradicated too, regardless it interested me where most educational programs put me to sleep. This was probably why Nik left us alone.

I had no idea where Dante had run off too; I didn't want to deter him from exploring on his own. When I demanded he not set foot near Delilah, he gave me a baffled look and asked, "Why would I associate myself with any Kin no matter their class?" I let it go at that and I told him to be home by eight. I'd only worry if he came home with blood on his shoes. Or any part of his person, really.

After lunch, Cassie announced she was going to see Robin's new apartment, of which no one dared to point out was much closer to Ishiah's apartment than the dealership where the trickster sold cars to the weak and easily manipulated. He'd sold one or two to Nik and me, but they never gave him much of a commission. He'd yet to even get Niko to look at a car with less than 100k miles. As Cassie said it, though, she was looking expectantly at me.

"What?" I asked around the sub I'd made with the leftover meatballs from dinner two nights ago. "You're always complaining that you can't go anywhere without an armed escort. Here's your chance." I felt comfortable enough letting her since it was still daylight, she could kick some serious ass if need be, and she would be with a creature who could wield a sword better than Niko. She didn't seem too keen on my suggestion.

Her mahogany eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Sorry, was that too subtle? I'm going to Robin's new place and you're coming with me so you can ask him about Bacchus."

"Whenever I go to Goodfellow's he opens the door butt-ass naked. He doesn't on purpose." I took another bite, trying to finish my lunch quickly since I knew I would cave eventually. She also had yet to supply Niko with this lead, leaving that for me to drop the ball. Once he knew there was a direction to take the two of them would drag me along. "It's like being forced to watch disturbing fetish porn. That shit stays with you."

"Well, baby, you're not _supposed_ to get hard when you see him naked." I glared at her for that teasing comment and she just smirked with her little chin propped up on the heel of her palm. "It's fine if you do. I can still work with that."

"Wait, what?"

"Bacchus is the Roman name for Dionysus, isn't it?" Niko called from our kitchen table, while Cassie and I were sitting at the island; it was strange how much time the family spent on this side of the penthouse, even with Dante taking up residence in the guest room next to Cassie and my room.

I continued to gape at my lover, waiting for her answer to _my_ question, but she ignored me and twisted around on the barstool to turn her attention to my brother. It wasn't the first time she'd thrown a sexual curveball at me, but the last time was a confession that she fancied a threesome with me and my brother. I didn't want to revisit that.

"Yes, Niko. Bacchus is Dionysus."

"Interesting, so—"

"No, hold up," I interrupted, waving my hand to pull her gaze back. "What do you mean 'you can work with that'?"

"Ms. Arne made mention of the Greek god. Likened him to Dorian Gray," Niko went on, discarding my distress. Granted, he probably didn't want to be present for Castiella's explanation on that one anyway. I dropped the remnants of my lunch on my plate in defeat. They continued discussing the little bit Cassie knew and decided on their own, of course, that Robin was the best source today. That was a first.

"Alright, fine. You win," I grumbled and brushed my hands together to remove the crumbs. "Let's go see the puck." I shot a glare toward my brother. "See the imaginative ways Niko can interrupt _his_ sexual innuendos."


	6. Chapter Five - Cal

CHAPTER FIVE

CAL

Robin Goodfellow's new condo was actually a brand new building lumbering above a street that had previously teetered between the good part and bad part of town. Someone was attempting to save this strip before it was the slums that took it and they were doing a decent job of it. It was a nice neighborhood compared to some of the other places we'd resided, but it still seemed a little low class for the puck.

"Oh, you should have see some of the places we holed up in," Cas claimed when I commented on the derelict grime. "He's been in the rat's nest and in the king's throne room, he'll be fine."

I was about to ask where the worst place Cassie had been was when I answered my own question almost instantly. No matter the depravity and deterioration of a home, nothing could compare to the insanity-inducing vast gray lands of Tumulus. The distant screech and screaming of playtime and meals didn't help the ambiance, especially when they got closer.

I felt Cassie's hand slip in mine, driving the repressed memories back into the hidden places of my mind. She had a knack for that. Knowing when I was dwelling in things better left alone and yanking me back into my reality that was far better than it had ever been before. I leaned over to drop a kiss to her crown in thanks as Niko knocked on door number 21, one of only two apartments on the top floor.

We called Dante to tell him where we'd be and gave Promise the run of her own home for a change. I had no doubt Dante would meet up with us soon. Leaving his parents in the luxury of our penthouse watching television was one thing, but there wasn't a chance he would assume we would be safe outside of those pristine walls. I didn't take offense to it. I knew I could take care of myself and where I couldn't Niko and Cassie would pick up the slack, but if my son felt more comfortable as a family unit I wasn't going to scold him for well-deserved paranoia.

Robin answered after the second knock in a robe of rich-looking navy fabric. A step up from his usual door-answering attire, but it probably would have been more affective if he had actually tied it shut. I felt my lips purse and my jaw tighten; I chose to give my girlfriend an accusatory glower instead of taking in any more of the image the puck presented.

"Uhn," Goodfellow grunted. A saw movement from the corner of my eye that looked like he might be raking a hand through his curls, but it also flashed more flesh tone in the gape of his robe so I kept staring down fixedly at Castiella's button nose. "Good afternoon to the Leandros family. What brings you here?"

"Robbie," Cassie scolded. She stepped out of my locked gaze and up to her old friend. Without another word, she pulled his robe closed and tied it deftly. "I apologize for not calling, but would you mind pulling on something a little more fitting for company?"

"If I must," Robin sighed. Smirking when Cassie gave his butt a smack to get him going in the right direction. "You might want to share that memo with your uncle though, as he is currently sprawled out luxuriously across my bed in utter sated bliss. As to be expected, considering his lover—"

"How about you go tell him or I make it so there is nothing to properly cover in the future?" I growled. Goodfellow lifted an eyebrow archly and gave my threat a little scoff.

"It is a sin to cover beauty for propriety in the first place," he muttered, but for once didn't kick up much of a fuss as he departed for his bedroom. While we waited I checked out his new digs. Niko did the same with a few quick flickers of the eye for escape routes, choke-points, and other tactical positions. My assessment wasn't as single minded.

Goodfellow actually kept most of his furniture from his previous apartment and like the other one this was a single level flat. Spacious and sprawling with ceilings that would make a ballroom all feel inadequate. There was even a chandelier in the center. It was the equivalent of a penthouse for this building. The chef's kitchen was to one side, partially open to show off modern lines in black and silver with what looked to be a guest bath tucked away beside it. On the other side, where Robin had gone so I dared not follow, had to be the master bedroom and bath.

I was simpler than his old place –one bedroom it looked like; that and the fact that he hadn't strung up his sex swing in the living room made me wonder how much Ishiah had changed him. Or maybe it was more how much Ishiah satisfied him and I didn't meant that sexually…not entirely at least.

"He'll be out later," Goodfellow announced as he reemerged in a pair of silk sleep-pants that the rich chose to lounge in and a thin buttoned shirt that he left gaping open like his robe to show off his naturally perfect physique. It was the best I could hope for considering this was his home and he'd finally stopped complaining about my wearing sweats around mine. "So again, what brings you to my humble abode?"

Humble for him, maybe. "Cassie wants me to ask you about Bacchus."

There were dual sighs of exasperation to either side of me, like stereo. Niko decided to take over in my apparent ineptitude and explained to Robin about the jackdaw's job and her conviction that Dorian Gray must die. Robin led us into his kitchen as Nik spoke, starting up a pot of tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I'd seen him make coffee and more often drinks of the alcoholic variety, but I had never seen him with a kettle in hand. Perhaps another peri influence; the feathered paien seemed to be as partial to the stuff as actors on the BBC channel.

"Bacchus is no god, though he fancied himself as much," Goodfellow explained with a commiserative nod. The puck had played god before, with catastrophic results. Still I doubted the one time I'd heard of was the only time and I also doubted the other times went off as horribly. "The painting is the handy work of the Gwragedd Annwn, or the original version created with dyes from the plant life and berries indigenous to a Welsh marsh was their doing. It's a harrowing tale if told by the wrong person of a man who fell in love with the daughter of the Gwragedd Annwn king, married her with permission of the father then struck her one too many times (namely three) because she laughed at his best friend's funeral, but that story is as lacking as the kiddie tale of Cinderella. The abuse that beautiful peasant went through, even after she married her prince." Goodfellow shook his head as he moved the whistling kettle to a cool range. "And her relatives…my, they were desperate. Hacking off toes and heels—"

"So Gwenrahgedd Annie," I called out to stop his endless flow of words before he went into fifteen other fairytales that I didn't care about. "Are they fairies? Nymphs? And what did Gray do to piss them off?"

"Gwragedd Annwn are water spirits," Niko supplied. "A type of nymph. They usually live near or around marshy locations. Human in appearance and often the women beautiful. Though I've heard that is isn't uncommon for them to marry into the human race." Niko directed the end of that to Robin, while Cassie perused Goodfellow's tea collection; yes, collection they were all lined up in a wood box. I would have to make fun of him for that later. It was then I realized she might have also been the reason he made the milder tonic.

It was doubtful a caffeine overdose would hurt the likes of a half Auphe baby, but Cassie had still taken some of the usual precautions in her pregnancy. She didn't drink more than a cup of coffee a day, cut out the occasional cigarette she used to smoke, and avoided alcohol all together. The rest she just said fuck it, claiming humanity was hyper-paranoid regarding what could maybe, possibly, fractionally hurt the baby and she was popping out a mutt anyway. That had made me laugh, but it wasn't far off.

Goodfellow snickered at Niko's inaccuracy, but instead of correcting he just elaborated, which meant Niko was partially correct. "Those women prefer humans…sadly, humans are better endowed, which is saying very little for the men folk of their breed." He, of course, gave me a pointed look with that remark. "So Lady Nerys found Bacchus and his more than adequate endowments to be quite the catch and Bacchus decided it would be grand fun to wed a water fae for a time, despite my warnings. Nymphs can be a wrathful bunch if you tangle with them. Those three little love taps mentioned in the sweet tale? Hardly, he beat her in a drug-induced stupor, nearly killing her. Her father was none too pleased."

He poured another two cups of tea as he spoke, placing one in front of Niko and another off to the side for Ishiah. I was marveling at his considerate gestures until he turned to me and asked. "Would you like some juice? Big boy cup or a sippy cup?"

"I would be immensely disturbed if you owned a sippy cup," I countered. He did have some coffee left in the pot on the counter, obviously from that morning, but a minute in the microwave would make it as good as new. As I prepared it myself, I made sure to collect my girlfriend up around the waist and kiss her neck right in Goodfellow's view. Might be have the biggest prick, but I still got the girl.

The puck ignored me and went on with his story. "Epic poem condensed, the Gwragedd Annwn sought vengeance for his mistreatment toward women. This wasn't the first time mind you. Bacchus is known as the patron for male fertility, wine, and growth likened to Dionysus and Liber. He went by Dionysus for a time, but Liber was a puck, emphasis on the past tense."

"So the Gwragedd Annwn used the painting to do what?" Niko pressed, trying to guide Goodfellow in the right conversational direction without being an ass about it. I found it was easier to just be an ass about it, but to each their own. "Ms. Arne seemed to think it was a means for him to renew his lifespan."

"Oh no, not at all. The painting was enchanted to, like Oscar Wilde interpreted, portray him as the beast and demon he had become. Any sinful act partook in and the painting would reflect. It was woven with the blood of his sons –born from Lady Nerys when they were married, the richest of wines that he created, and his own semen." Mythology was fucked up, that was all I could say in regard to that bit of information. Robin explained that it was supposed to strip him of all he loved. Wine would never taste as rich, his sons would grow as his own fortitude and fortune waned, and he could never have another child. Although, the way the puck phrased it I wondered if it was never have another climax, which would suck a whole lot more.

"So they basically made his life miserable with a finger painting?"

Goodfellow rocked his head to one side in consideration. "His sons restored it to a better likeness once such skills were more paramount, but essentially. I can't understand why the old jackdaw would think he was returning to life though, he was never immortal and vampires only live for so long."

"He was a vampire?" Niko echoed in his version of surprise. He seemed to be making mental notes of all of this, but I did notice the obvious avoidance of the question: 'how long do vampires usually live'? Promise was at least six hundred, with who knew how many centuries to go. She still looked damn amazing with that many miles on her, so I doubted she was even at the halfway point. But Niko was human and we avoided (and he and Promise probably avoided) any conversation that brought up his mortality. Whether she loved him or not, Promise would eventually lose Niko. At the rate I was going I would probably already be dead at that point and I was fine with that. Immortality seemed like way too much drama.

"As were his sons. Bacchus was killed ages ago. I was there, I can contest. If someone is plaguing the jackdaw it is more likely one of his sons. One of which, I do believe, goes by the name Dorian."

"Why would they mess with the painting?" Cassie asked, still comfortably leaned against my side while she drank her chosen tea. The combined scent of her natural flora with the slightly fruity steam of the tea was pretty much driving me crazy; a good, currently inappropriate, crazy. I indulged in another kiss to her neck.

"That would be the question," he answered smoothly. How was that for a doubt standard? If I asked the same damned question he would have made some comment on not having to do my job for me or that he needed to let my half-developed brain get some exercise. But Cassie? Nope, he was her darling.

"So if he's just some vampire you once knew why do you curse with his name?" I asked, remembering more than once that name being used in colorful exclamation of both relief and fury. Goodfellow's mouth dipped into a frown for a moment, before he gave me a rueful smile.

"There are few that master a skill better than a puck, but I will admit he played god much better than I. Midas, Pentheus, Lycurgus...he rivaled my kind with his powers of manipulation. The incident with the Gwradegg Annwn was his downfall, but his rise was quite brilliant." For once, I didn't believe that was a double entendre; Goodfellow was actually giving respect toward someone other than himself, my brother, or Ishiah. Amazing.

"Dionysus was one of the only twelve Olympians that could restore the dead. Is it possible that he learned a means to remain alive?" Niko's question was borderline necromancy and that didn't sit well in my stomach. Things left dead needed to stay dead. Zombies didn't exist; Revenants were a pretty close thing, but I'd seen them born they always looked like decaying hunks of meat. Living, breathing meat I might add.

"Necromancy is nothing but whispers for nightmares. And Dionysus was an alias, not a god," Robin reiterated. "These stories and the mythology are spoken and written by those with wagging tongues. Those with the skill and artistic talents to weave a fascinating story that will explain the unexplainable. Bacchus was the first to make wine, he was a talented lover, and he found no fault in recreational pleasures. _That _was what gave him the credentials of becoming an Olympian. Although…" the puck paused and leaned back against the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface. "The Gwragedd Annwn knew a great deal about healing and poisons; they used elements mankind has yet to comprehend even today. Nearly every single one is genetically born a healer, which included his half-fae sons. If they have not forgiven him they could prolong his life for spite."

That wasn't the most promising of leads, but it was all Robin could give us. We were either looking for a mischievous son of Bacchus playing a cruel trick on the proud new owner of his father's inactive painting, an unforgiving son of Bacchus that refused to let his father lay in peace, or maybe even Bacchus himself –changing the painting to seek help in ending his torture. As vaguely interesting as it was, I wasn't interested because none of them sounded as cut and dry as I liked. Niko, on the other hand, was exceedingly intrigued. He wanted to learn scads more, enough that he asked Goodfellow if he could stay. My brother…asking Goodfellow to talk more…

I promptly took my leave with Castiella in tow. Nik would either be home in time to go clear out some strixies or he would leave the simple task to Dante and me. Best part in all that foreshadowing of knowledge was that when Cassie and I stepped out into the mild afternoon sun, not only was Dante waiting for us on the sidewalk like I had suspected he might, but beside him was a very weary looking young man of pale skin and dark hair. Kinda looked like another brother of the family, honestly; he even had a long nose like the one Niko inherited from our Rom side.

I lifted my eyebrows and glanced over at Cassie. Irony had me thinking this might be exactly who we were looking for, cynicism had me wondering if my son's naivety had drawn someone nefarious toward him, and curiosity had me trying to figure out how a vampire was standing before me in the sun without a shade for cover.

"Father or brother?" the man asked with a thick British accent. I assumed he was asking about my relation to Dante; information I wasn't willing to give out considering how often the paien spewed that information onto ears that shouldn't hear it.

"Doesn't matter," I replied. "You are?"

"Doesn't matter," he countered. He turned so his shoulders were squared with mine. I still stood on the green weather-rug that led into the building with Cassie. Dante was leaned casually against the stone retention wall out from under the matching green awning. This guy was standing with him, sun dappled across his porcelain skin. The only indication that the sunlight might be bothering him at all was the pair of nearly-black sunglasses he wore. "Please leave this situation alone. There is no need for your involvement."

"How did you even find us?" I didn't like it; for him to show up here, he was stalking us. Niko would have spotted him, even if I hadn't, and for Cassie not to notice a tail as well…the simple life was making us soft.

"You aren't as incognito as perhaps you think you are, Caliban Leandros. It isn't hard to find the rare among monotony." I felt my hackles rising. He knew what I was; knew I was half Auphe, yet he stood beside my son, whom he knew was of some relation by appearance alone, without any fear. Not that my boy seemed particularly threatening at the moment, on the contrary he looked bored. Which is some cases, for an Auphe, was worse. "No one is anonymous in this world, but I mean you no ill will, I just ask you to step down from Agnes' request."

"Agnes," I repeated, then laughed. "Yeah, that old bat looks like an Agnes."

"The name is deeply ingrained in most histories actually," he responded and tucked his hands in the pockets of his light jacket. I didn't know how old he was, considering Robin knew Bacchus way back when I would assume old, but he was hip to the times and didn't look out of place at all in his jeans and dress shirt. "It means pure and chaste," he went on and gave me a meaningful smile. "So…perhaps not as fitting."

I smirked; at least, he felt the same way about the hag as I did. "We didn't take the job, Dorian."

He lifted his chin for a moment, lips pursing, then he turned his face into the sun with a sigh. "Dorian Gray was my father. He has been dead since the turn of the century."

"That's not that long ago actually," Cassie commented. I was wondering the same; why he wouldn't just say how many years it'd been. Unless he was aiming for the overly dramatic.

"Has it been…yes, I suppose it has," he muttered something else I couldn't catch to himself with a short laugh then amended, "Last century. The 1900's. It doesn't matter, then. If you are respectable enough to decline her request I thought ill of your scruples and I apologize. This matter is between me and my kin, no others are to be involved."

"Question," I interrupted stepping a bit closer to Dorian Jr. and my son. "Several actually. Answer them appropriately and maybe I'll consider leaving this to you and your kin. How many bodies have you racked up in the last hundred years?"

Junior grimaced and gave an absent minded glance at Dante before back at me. "Those in glass houses, Aupheling."

"How many innocent bodies then?"

He tilted his head to the side to reveal eyes so dark they looked black, either surprised I could make the differentiation or that I was asking him to. "None, thankfully. I don't feed like my ancestors."

"Pills and iron?" He nodded. Good, so he was like Promise in that aspect. Off the blood-sucking bandwagon. That also meant the jackdaw's proclamation of killing to prolong his own life was no longer valid. Ancestral vampires would do that –in base terms. More than once every hundred years, but with how often they'd move from town to town it might seem that way for lore's sake. "How are you sunbathing right now?"

He shifted his hands in his pocket and moved to pull something out. There was a certain tick in a gesture that made it menacing, which he didn't have. I would have been shocked if he'd pulled out a grenade, but I doubted it more. What he did pull out was a small salve tin, a little like the one Nik's dad gave me with healing ointment inside; my gate-inhibitor cure-all. Cassie took what was offered; I wasn't ready to take my hand off the blade in my pocket. She inspected the contents, then with a little sniff screwed the top back on. "A friend of ours related you to the Gwragedd Annwn. Is this a perk of that linage? The ability to make a salve impermeable to the sunlight?"

"Among other things," he answered, glanced up at the building, then raked his eyes over Castiella. I felt my spine straighten even if I couldn't see where those eyes were lingering. "I believe it was Goodfellow you were visiting? He was a fair-weather friend of my grandfather's. Exaggeration was a grand trait in both of them." His pale fingers brushed against Cassie's as she returned the salve; one more come on and he could forget me stepping away from this. "So I hardly believed him when he claimed to have met the Harbinger, flesh before him."

Cassie's knuckles pressed against my chest before I even moved to lung. She would handle this, I knew she would she didn't have to tell me, but that didn't mean I was above kicking him in the face for undressing her with his eyes. "I know Goodfellow well to this day, but I'm sorry to tell you those were lies; flesh or clothed I've never stood before Bacchus."

Dorian Jr. took in a deep breath, then let it out in a heavy exhale. "What can I do to encourage three half Auphe to leave me to my business?" He sounded serious; like he knew what we could do to him and he respected that.

"Honestly, it's my brother you have to convince Junior."

He didn't seem to appreciate the nickname, but without much of a fuss he pulled out a business card, pointedly handing it Castiella again. "The name is Nero Gray. Please contact me when he is willing to discuss this at length."

With that little Vlad walked away, hailing a cab at the corner like anything other schmuck on the street. I narrowed my eyes and panned them over to my lover. She was tapping the card to her full bottom lip and offered me a shrug when my gaze fell on her. "Well…he's not an asshole."

I rolled my eyes, snatched the card from her hand, and spun around to go back in and give it to my brother. The sooner we wrapped this up, the sooner I could be assured that the only lustful thoughts aimed at Cassie were mine.


	7. Chapter Six - Josh

CHAPTER SIX

JOSH

I hated New York. Such was something one should never utter while on the streets of said city, but I really hated New York. It was overrun by nightmares and dying dreams and the lights and hustle of bodies was all just a good front to help you ignore that fact. It was dirty and gritty. Even the flashes of true talent, true art, and true compassion were overlooked for the violence and sins on display. And that was just considering the humans.

The preternatural lurked in every crevasse here. Waiting like lions prowling in the night, like a spider effortlessly weaving its web to collect those who miss the glimmer of the threads. New York was owned by the non-humans. No matter the efforts made by the Vigil here it would always been the monsters' home. I never understood how a person, glowing like an amber stone in the sunlight even in the dead of night, could have survived here. George was something more than special, though. I'd learned that she wasn't very pure either, but that was more of a private matter and I wasn't going to complain if she didn't want to wait until marriage.

"You think perhaps you aren't looking in the right places," my fiancé said once again reading my expression, if not my thoughts. Her voice was almost a melodic cadence as if teasing me.

She leaned her chin to my shoulder. Usually we held hands intermittently as I drove, but the cast made it a little more than awkward. My car was complaining for gas again, but I was determined to get to our destination before I filled up. It probably would have been smarter to get it outside of the city, but I couldn't bare another pit stop where we argued about going home. My meager paycheck was dwindling fast. The Vigil needed paper pushers as much as muscle and until I was trained properly I was fated to push those papers for minimum wage. George didn't really get enough from her new teacher's aid position either, hence our cheap apartment.

"There is beauty here," she defended.

"I don't deny that, but it's beauty being strangled by smog and bad intentions." She hummed in amusement at my poetic license and wrapped her hands around my fingers despite the cast. I pulled into a parking garage that seemed the cheapest after a spin around the block. Brooklyn… where George had apparently booked a bed, yes a bed, at the hostel. As if I hadn't hated this plan enough already. After charming them over the phone as we crossed through White Plains, George managed to get me a bed there too, but I wasn't happy to know we would be sharing a room with strangers. The only selling point was that it was doubtful those who were staying over at a hostel were actually from New York.

It wasn't much of a selling point when I saw how many beards combined with iPhones were leaving the building, though. I clenched my teeth and glanced over at George. It was too late to go back now; we'd already walked the three blocks from the car and there was no way I was paying fifteen dollars for less than the same amount of minutes. Georgina gave me a dazzling smile as she adjusted the strap of her duffle over her shoulder; with my injuries she refused to let me carry hers. "You'll hate it, but at least I'll be safe here even if I'm alone."

I stared forlornly at the old building that looked recently renovated. Two more people slipped out of the front door, one with her nose against her phone screen the other with headphones almost too big for her head wrapped around her neck. Both looked to be wearing a revamped rendition of something I'd seen my grandmother in when she was a teen. "Surrounded by hipsters. I'm in hell." She was right though. Every person leaving and entering the hostel looked self-absorbed enough to not even notice a beacon like George.

George snickered and entwined her fingers with mine on the left side. "You'll be fine. It's cheap, safe, and clean, suck it up." She didn't want to go home and I didn't blame her. Her mother remained in New York with an aunt and some related little ones that I couldn't keep track of, but crashing their house would be as good as painting a target on their roof. I doubted George told or intended to tell her family she was in town. I certainly didn't tell the Boston Vigil Chapter the real reason I was in NYC. I would probably be exiled the moment 'seeking aid from a half Auphe' derived as some sort of sentence in my explanation. I knew Caliban was watched by the Vigil here– as close as they could get without the brothers retaliating. It was also rumored the Manhattan Chapter lost a very important specimen last year, two in fact. Caliban's poor little son who, allegedly, had been created in their labs and the Harbinger whom had birthed the child. The Vigil's involvement was questionable. The Manhattan Chapter claimed the Harbinger a menace worthy of more than a Red Flag and the son…well, they were silent in those allegations. But that brought to mind two more things I hated about this situation.

The Manhattan Chapter in and of itself was disgusting. They were the one of the hubs in the States, along with Baltimore, Chicago, and Vegas. They were also the most secretive. Their experiments were whispered about but never confirmed. None of the other chapters even knew if the facilities here actually existed or not. I knew it did mostly because of George's Uncle Samuel. He remained in the chapter to try and give logic and reason to their decisions. From what I'd heard it was a fruitless effort. The second thing was that Caliban had lost two loved ones in the last year and a half. That meant he would not be pleasant company and I still had to be nice regardless.

So homicidal puck, vulnerable human fiancé, very grumpy half Auphe, and a power-hungry (possibly dangerous) group of highly trained men stalking from the shadows. Somehow I doubted this was going to go well. I picked up my bag and followed after Georgina reluctantly. Wondering, not for the first time, how much she would struggle if I slung her over my shoulder and drove us back to Boston.

The clerk knew George the instant we walked in. With a huge smile and open arms they greeted each other like high school friends reuniting. Only the clerk was several years too old to be a high school friend. She was still unassuming. Skinny as a toothpick with her tanned skin just in the beginning stages of sagging on her arms. She wore little make-up, but her face was more pleasant for it. Shorn nails and the faint smell of soil made me believe she was a botanist or maybe just a gardener. Her graying blond hair was cut short to her head, implying she didn't like to fuss with vanities.

I let them chat about the hows and whys each of them were here. I surveyed the woman and deemed her to be a former client of George's when she actually used her gift in formative years or perhaps a family friend. Georgina introduced her as May. "She shares a gift like mine."

May let off a little scoff and waved her hand before her heart. "Georgina, no one has a gift like you do." May turned to me and extended her hand, caught sight of my casted right hand, then offered her left. It was considerate. I shook it and smiled politely. "I liked to think I can just see with my eyes a little bit wider than others."

A weak seer then. Some were born with the 'gift' so weak their visions could be passed off as forgotten dreams. May might have been a bit more clairvoyant than that, but, as she said, no one could compare to George. "A pleasure, May. I'm Josh."

"Aren't you a handsome piece of work. Under all that rough and tumble, I assume," she comment and give George a wink. "You watch him in here. Some of these traveling girls can get a little too playful. And they like scars." She paused and eyed my jacket with a frown. "You might want to cover that patch though. This is haven for all."

May didn't have to explain anymore than that. In my haste in packing I had shrugged on my apprentice jacket, also figuring it might work in my favor should we get tangled up with the Vigil here. Apparently, this hostel loft wasn't limited to humans only and I knew as well as May did that the Vigil wasn't well liked among the preternatural here. Or anywhere really. Ancient monsters didn't appreciate a young race like the humans interfering with their lives, whether it was to protect or not.

I ripped off the patch without a word. It was only sewn on the jacket's sleeve for apprentices – I could sew it back on when we got home. For the higher ranks it was a badge worn on the belt or holster, for the Enforcers it was more like a military patch on the shoulder.

May nodded her head in approval of my quick gesture. She had to know I wasn't denying my loyalty to the Vigil, but flaunting it would do me no good in this city. She directed us to our room and asked George to come visit the garden on the roof for coffee and a longer chat at some point. If George wanted to take May up on that I wasn't going to stop her – knowing preternatural stayed here too I might follow her, but I doubted my fiancé wanted to affiliate herself with anyone in fear that they might be hurt.

I was feeling a little better about the whole bedding situation when I saw that each set of twin beds were partitioned off like in a dorm room. George and I chose the corner closest to the door, I made sure I was beside it with her bed next. We wouldn't have any privacy, but at least the beds weren't on top of each other like a barrack. Feeling better too when George wrapped her arms around my waist from behind and rested her head on my back. "I both hate and love that you came."

I covered her clasping hands with my palm, closing my eyes to take in the full essence that was my lover pressed against me. "I would never let you do this alone."

We stayed like that for a while, watching the sun set on the city from the large windows that lined the room. She murmured something about missing the city and I had to refrain from expressing my hatred aloud. Even the colorful lights did nothing for me. The towers jutted into the sky crudely as if challenging a god or trying to pierce the clouds. I could hear the horns of agitated drivers and the sirens rushing by to aid those who didn't have enough patience. We weren't far up from the streets so you could even see the people skulking by like zombies on a mission…if only they were searching for brains.

George snickered and slunk around my side to nudge my arm over her shoulders. "You hate it here, don't you?"

"With a fiery passion," I confessed. I bent and dropped a kiss to her freckled nose. She continued giving me that glowing smile. The one that said she knew what I was enduring to be here and she appreciated my loyalty. Loyalty should never have been a question; I wished to marry this woman and in order to spend the rest of my life with her I needed to keep her alive. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered back without hesitation. Our next kiss was interrupted by our roommates wandering in, their laughter mixed with the roll of their bags. They looked sheepish when they saw our embrace and actually apologized. Certainly, they weren't from around here.

George and I made small talk with the quartet (traveling from Germany to see the sights of the United States) until they decided to go out to dinner. Georgina made a couple of suggestions, but confessed that she didn't know this area very well since she had lived in Manhattan as a child. Once they were gone George was on point like a hound let off its leash. She wanted to go Caliban hunting immediately. I anticipated that convincing her to wait until morning would take several hours, but for once Georgina was seeing logic.

The preternatural roamed the night and we would do much better blending in with the human throngs, than we would sticking out like a tasty morsel strolling down a darkened alley. That was all I said, all I had to say and she agreed. I think I really just wanted more time to convince her that this was a horrible idea. She may have seen that and humored me; a tactic I believed she practiced too often. Of course, that only meant I had to monitor her to make sure they weren't just placating words and she intended to scout alone.

When George decided to visit with May for a glass of wine on the roof, I'd joined her. If only to assess the area. May was already mellowed out after a few glasses of Merlot, eager to wrangle me into conversation, but I evaded. There was no fire escape for George to duck from without me. The stairs on the next level led to the main lobby and there was a loft that over looked the entire entrance. I ventured up there to find the communal lounge. I had to admit was nicer than most Starbucks lounges. The decorating was a little modern seventies with the color palette, but there was free WiFi, a large screen television, and computers for patron use.

I texted George to tell her where I was and eased into an orange-upholstered chair angled for a decent view of the activity below. The only thing behind me was the television.

The best tactic I could have at the moment was studying my terrain, the current situations. I didn't need the computers, or the possibility of them tracking my search history. I had my own tablet and began searching news articles for recent events. Things slightly out of the ordinary or ambiguity that could imply the preternatural were involved. Rushing to find Cal only to be caught in the middle of a freak Kin and vampire war would be pointless, hence my research.

George said the brothers were guns for hire, or at least took jobs similar to that of the Vigil. Containing murderous non-humans and killing them if need be. Only they did it for a price. So I was banking on the possibility they might be mentioned in an article about a murder or strange ritualistic event. No, honestly, I wasn't banking on anything of the sort. Caliban Leandros was a monster, monsters did well with hiding and there was no chance that he would allow himself any notoriety with the paper.

The newspapers were for humans. Monsters didn't care about humans unless they needed something from them be it money, blood, or flesh. It was doubtful I would strike gold, but the tablet doubled as a distraction to make me look immersed while I surveyed and listened to those around me.

There were only two others in the lounge, watching television and of no intellectual use, but I was overlooking the lobby with only a black railing to separate my field of vision. The angled ceiling allowed me to hear the voices below. And I could hear them clearly. The Wolves downstairs.

The Kin held great influence regarding anything felonious in New York City. If one wanted information about a monster one needed to listen to other monsters. The Wolves would know if something was amiss in their territory. Plus, even if Caliban Leandros would not want notoriety among the humans, among the non-humans…notoriety was a necessity. The Kin were the majority in the city. They would know him and probably where to find him, so I didn't have to slag through this godforsaken city for several days.

I clicked on another article and listened with great difficulty. Their voices carried, but the dull noise of the television and the fact that they were speaking in French made it a challenge. I knew French, but wasn't as fluent as I was with Russian and German. My ear for languages was one of the reasons they accepted me almost immediately as an apprentice; the fact that I was already trained with a side arm and a rifle were added bonuses. I had a feeling I would be learning the various intonation of Wolf in years to come.

One of the werewolves was having difficulty with the language as well, but I could tell by the growl in his tonality that it was due to mutation and not a faulty grasp of French vocabulary.

I stood from the chair and wandered over to the little coffee set up they had in the corner. I kept my nose pointed toward the tablet while I poured a cup. Recycled paper and raw sugar; I was sensing a theme here.

My eyes were strained to peer down at the gathering below. It was the one with his hood up that was having the communication problems and the others didn't seem to be very patient with him. Werewolves in expensive suits, interesting. If they weren't tossing the Kin's name around I would have thought it a group of business men getting haggled by a panderer. Or maybe a drug deal.

Judging by body language alone, the hooded werewolf was of lower breeding. He was also Kin, as they said. The French were from the Ordre; obviously the werewolves there were either uninventive or just believe they were above symbolism or insignias. I'd heard nothing about the Ordre since so few Wolves bothered to…well, bother with the Kin. The Kin were too violent and, dare I say, uncouth for their European brethren. That being said, the Kin owned the States with only a little competition from Mexico on the West Coast. Perhaps this underling was attempting to open a connection with the French to gain authority?

I finished fixing my coffee and wandered over my previous seat. After a bit of fake fumbling, I pretended I forgot my tablet at the coffee station I went back to catch a little more of the conversation.

No, the werewolf was looking for safe passage. Apparently, he had done something very wrong to his pack. I tuned out before listening to the juicer details. It was merely Kin related and would give me no information on the movements of one particular half Auphe. If a werewolf wanted to leave the States I would be the first to give him a false glowing recommendation. And one Wolf seeking refuge did not a war imply.

I returned to my chair and flopped down. What the hell were we doing?

George appeared in the open threshold of the lounge. She didn't pause or scour the area to look for me. There weren't many in the exposed room, but I still found it uncanny how her eyes fell on me the moment her sight wasn't blocked by an outcropping wall. She gave me a glowing smile, trotted over, and bent to dot a kiss to my cheek.

"There is a feud going on with two Alphas in the Bronx and it's becoming bloody, a vampire named, Lou, in Queens is causing trouble with claims that his entire collection of Grecian urns was stolen by a family of Brownie that are very well-liked in their neighborhood, and a jackdaw in Manhattan is ranting about her original portrait of Dorian Gray is coming to life with the blood of his fallen victims." George perched on the armrest and rubbed her palms over my shoulders. "All in all, nothing too crazy in the city."

She had interrogated May. Either that or the older woman had loose lips. More than likely, Georgina knew I would be concerned about the other dangers of this city and was attempting to ease my mind. Knowing that no one was proclaiming a rouge Aupheling with white hair and red eyes was murdering people left and right was a relief, but that didn't mean he wasn't here. Just as hearing nothing about Hob gave no assurance that he wasn't watching from a box seat with popcorn and a smirk.

"You realize there are over a million people in Manhattan alone," I told George. "Did May know where we could find that special guy we're looking for among that million?"

George sighed and lifted from the chair. She also took my coffee, but I hadn't planned on drinking it anyway. "I'm aware of how difficult finding him might be. What are you doing anyway?"

I lifted my tablet to show her. "Looking for leads." George took a sip from the coffee, nodded, and sat herself down at one of the communal computers. I supposed two was better than one, but it still seemed moot.

I continued flipping through the back issues of the online newspapers. About a four months ago surveyors found the remains of what seemed to be a giant lizard in the old tunnels under the city. There was a picture of what looked like a wyvern horn in the corner, but the report claimed it a hoax –the Vigil claimed it a hoax. There was the pack of feral dogs, that read as kishi to me, who mauled two animal control officers that attempted to remove them from a derelict house. A team of 'specialist' were called in and put the dogs down without any further incident. That was more than two years ago.

I moved on to another newspaper and more current news. I stopped to inspect one about a series of fires that sprung up around the industrial side of Manhattan. The culprit was apparently stopped before more could pop up closer to residential areas. It caused me to pause because of the black van I saw in the background of one of the pictures. By the emblem on the plate, that was a Vigil van, which meant these were hardly normal fires.

"I know this is tedious, but since you seem against hitting the pavement, do you have a better option?" Georgina said softly. I grunted a negative.

I enlarged the picture to study it better, but other than human firefighters and officers I couldn't see much. There were a few covered bodies poorly hidden behind an ambulance, but the quality of the picture gave no hint as to what was underneath. So I needed to find out what had been there before the fires.

"Other than my gift?"

I startled at her secondary comment, since it seemed to come out of nowhere. I hadn't asked her to look since we left Boston. Unless she assumed my distracted pause was implication that I was hesitating in asking such. By her pout, she had assumed as much, but her expression changed quickly upon seeing my confusion.

"I didn't ask and I don't have a better plan." It would be easier, all things considered, but I didn't want another fight.

"What did you find?" she asked, realizing what my delayed reaction had actually been about.

I shook my head. "Nothing yet." George still leaned over the back of my chair to read over my shoulder. Her interest piqued with mine. The fires started with an abandoned warehouse, which was apparently a fire hazard to begin with considering the officials found old oil barrels inside the wreckage. No deaths claimed there. The second a club…a fetishist club. Then an illegal casino, another club. I let off a little chuckle; recognizing the pattern and knowing very well the target even if the reporters didn't or weren't allowed to make the connection. "Someone wasn't too fond of the Kin."

"Very few are." George reached over my shoulder to pull back to a previous page. Two of the locations had already rebuilt; the clubs first since they were the legitimate revenues. Kin owned New York City in their own eyes and the eyes of any other canine that occasionally walked as a man, but obviously they had pissed someone very powerful off.

"Didn't you say Caliban had grenades with little yellow smiley faces on them," I said with a false grin. George took the tablet from me and scrolled down with a flick of her finger.

"There are a lot of people saying this report is wrong. 'This is all bullshit. I was there. It was a girl and they shot her down. No questions ask, just shot her.'" Great, she was reading the comments. Like that would help.

"George—"

"Someone else said: 'She was an angel smiting the sin of the dredges. Houses of fornication and greed burned to the ground.'"

"They were Kin hideouts and business. Greed and fornication are about all they know."

George shook her head. It didn't seem I was going to get my tablet back. I craned my neck to read with her. "Yeah, but there are several more comments saying people witnessed the apprehension. A lot of them claim there was a huge power surge in local buildings, a gate might be able to do that."

"They also all say 'she' and Cal isn't very feminine. It also sites wings," I pointed out, slipping the tablet out of her slender fingers. "Preternatural, yes, but it sounds like a peri." George frowned at the dead end, folding her arms along the back of my chair and resting her cheek to them. "Peris aren't usually so brazen, but they certainly don't appreciate the Kin or greed and lust. So as I said, nothing yet."

She trailed her fingers through my hair near my nape. I wasn't sure if it was for my effort or because she was about to suggest something she knew I wouldn't like. "You want to order a pizza?" I snickered at her question. Or maybe she was just getting frustrated and needed a distraction. I twisted my head back to give her a kiss.

"I'll look for a place that delivers. In the meantime, didn't you say Caliban had friends that were a little more high profile than he and his brother?" Amazing that 'friends' and 'half-Auphe' could feasibly be used in a sentence without 'doesn't have', but the turn of phase running with a bad crowd had to come from somewhere. "Maybe you should look one of them up instead?"

George's eyes lit up and she rewarded me with a firm kiss before returning to her computer. "Of course, Promise!"

I did as I was told on my side and ordered a pizza for us from a local shop that actually had one with all the veggie toppings we liked on special. They apparently knew the hostel well, because with just the mention of the name they didn't need directions. It arrived in less than twenty minutes and when I went down to pay for it in the lobby, I noticed the scared, hooded werewolf was alone. He sat on a fake leather ottoman and stared at his hands, which were both hairy and desperately needed a nail-clipper. I shifted the cardboard pizza box to balance on top of my cast and kept my good hand free to grab the tazer still against my back. I didn't want to alarm May with my handguns so I'd kept them upstairs. Against a werewolf like this, I doubted I would need much more than a shot of electricity and a left hook.

"They said no?" I asked in French, so we wouldn't be overheard as easily and so he knew I heard their earlier conversation. The Wolf bared his teeth at me, but didn't rise from his chair. I switched to English since he didn't seem to care and, quite simply, it was easier for me. "I can't help you with them, but I have a twenty with your name on it if you can answer a question for me."

"Twenty wouldn't get me out of Brooklyn."

"Use a cheap bus and it'll get you out of New York," I offered. "Getting away from the Kin isn't about money anyway. It's about how fast you can run."

"What." It was more a statement than a question, but I understood the meaning. He both accepted my offer and wanted me out of his face.

"Where can I find Caliban Leandros?"

The Wolf stared, then started laughing; it sounded more like a dog choking. He rose from the ottoman, his back curved unnaturally like an old man with sever scoliosis. "You wish to challenge the Aupheling? You?"

"How do you know I don't just want to have a nice chat with him over some beer?"

His bloodshot eyes crinkled in amusement. "You smell like vengeance."

I lifted my eyebrows. Maybe a werewolf hadn't been the best mark, but it was all I had right now and I wasn't willing to sift pointlessly through news articles until Georgina decided to run blindly through non-human streets. "I didn't realize that was a tangible scent, but why do you care what I want. A human dead or an Aupheling, no skin off your teeth."

He chortled again and snatched the twenty I was waving in front of him. "Ninth Circle."

"Of hell?" I questioned. The Wolf didn't respond, instead he started for the lobby door attempting to sing a dirge in French. Unfortunately, I could understand enough that he had certain ideas about my fate in meeting with Caliban. Nice to know the Aupheling was equal opportunity when he killed. It obviously didn't matter that I was human for this beast to think Caliban would slaughter me.

Armed with my pizza and three syllables and I went back up to the lounge to quick search Ninth Circle locally. Other than a review likening the Brooklyn Ikea to the ninth circle of hell, I found several ninth floors and ninth avenues and a bar call The Ninth Circle. Since I doubted Caliban would work for Ikea and there were no 9th Circle road names I concentrated on the bar. And every review was worse than the last…even if none of them ever made it to the bar. The street it resided on was deterrent enough. Cautious words claimed it was a horrible part of town and no one in their right mind should set foot there. Bingo.

Humans evaded that which they didn't understand. If this bar was on a street or a part of town where the non-humans were the majority, humans dared not tread. At least the smart ones didn't. A monster cesspool would certainly be where Caliban was, not that I was eager to go. Ergo, I wasn't in a rush to tell George…it could wait 'til morning.


	8. Chapter Seven - Cal

CHAPTER SEVEN

CAL

I was quickly beginning to see why Hitchcock had an aversion for avian. Strixie might not have been strictly part of the bird family but they were the same shape and feathered like a puffy osprey so the comparison worked for me. Whatever category they fit in they stank of dog blood and I was pretty sick of getting smacked in the face with their wings as they dive bombed.

"Damned hawk," I cursed as I batted another son of a bitch that tried to hook my jacket (or my head) with its talons. My Glock had become a melee weapon as much as a ranged one at this point.

"Although I can see the resemblance, I would liken them more to the Eurasian Eagle-Owl. Some of the breed have red eyes of a similar hue, and the horns protruding from their frontal bone resembles the excess feathers gathered around the owl's—"

"Dante!" I snapped, plugging another strixie in the frontal bone with my Glock. The Desert Eagle seemed a little overkill for a flock of birds. Of course, I'd also assumed I wouldn't be getting a nature lesson without Niko here and apparently I'd been wrong about that too. It was slightly pathetic when my fifteen-year-old son knew more intelligent trivia than I did. I could still school him on pop culture, but he was packing that information in like a chipmunk getting ready for the winter.

In response to my shout Dante took out two more of the owl-like paien…with nearly an entire clip. I knocked the one that had been dive bombing me continuously out of the sky and slammed my boot down on its neck. I heard the satisfying snap of a job well done. The wide beak, lined with teeth not suited for a bird of any breed, eased open with a soft death rattle. "That was six shots, Dante, and only two down? Concentrate and aim." Damn, now _I_ sounded like Niko, but there was no way my son was going to be a shit-shot.

"I am," Dante complained. I chuckled. It was surprisingly reliving when a typical whine or sniped remark came from his mouth. He sounded like a normal kid. Or at least how I sounded when Niko chided me on how to hold a firearm. He sounded like me.

"Lead out. Their wings telegraph their movement." I stopped myself when he tried again and this time caught a frontal bone himself. I smiled and stepped back to sit on the stone ledge that enclosed the sky rise apartment roof. "Better, but I think you need a little target practice."

Dante was frowning, but he didn't contradict me as I rested my gun on my knee. If one of the strixes came too close to me or him, I would help, but at this point the only monsters he was used to killing were Auphe. And while that was a pretty high claim to fame, every paien was different.

I propped a leg up on the ledge and let my head drop against the pillar behind me. It was kind of amusing actually. All the sitcoms I watched where they talked about using their kids for manual labor and I actually found it possible even in my line of work. See, I could do the family bonding thing, only instead of tossing him into the deep end with swimmies I was chucking him to blood-thirsty falcon-owls with lead back up.

Dante cleaned out the stragglers within ten minutes and only wasted a total of two clips. He lowered the gun after gazing down at it as if it was the culprit for his bad aim. Of course, it was my back up Glock and was sighted for me so that might have been part of the problem. "I think it's about time we get you some firepower of your own."

He tilted his head toward the sky, watching a loose feather flutter down. He snatched it up and flicked it toward the stone landscape of the rooftop garden. "Would have been more suitable if I had taken flight as well and cut them down."

"Dante—"

"But I know you don't wish for me to expose my nature to the public with the Vigil watching so closely. For the same reason I wear a hood to cover my features and change my gate and routines when I walk with you."

I slipped my legs to the roof floor; that tone was beyond his usual factoid regurgitation. "Hey Champ…you understand why we take those precautions, right?" I pushed off my seat, stepping over a few strixie carcasses. In response, he pulled up his hood and cast those pale gray eyes to their corners. I tugged the fabric back down, not done talking to him. "Dante, what's up?"

His thick lashes, which he inherited from his mother even if the color was much darker, lowered. There were still little down feathers swirling around our feet in tiny tornados. The wind up here was even kicking at my hair, pulling it from its ponytail. We were nineteen stories up, after all with a nice little wind tunnel created by the buildings beside us.

"Your control, the pride you have in it. It took you a long time to gain it, yet you ask me to suppress my own. I sometimes have difficulty determining if you wish to hide me from enemies or just the world."

And suddenly there was a dagger in my chest. Not in a literal fashion, though that did happen often enough when someone distracted me with emotional baggage. Difference was this time I actually cared and I understood all too well how my son was feeling. I'd thought similarly. All those years that Niko had no choice, but to hide me away. All those years where revealing who I was, what I was, could get us killed. For those long months after I tumbled out of Tumulus –shoved out by Cassie no less – Niko could do nothing but sequester me away. If he hadn't there was no telling what I would do to anyone who got too close. Dante was right. It took me over five years to gain that control he mentioned. The control that caused even more adversaries to back away from me with little more than a passing glance, the control that turned Cassie on like a dream, the control that made me understand that there was a means to be what I was without submitting to who the venomous wanted me to be.

Dante seemed to be born with that control. The year he spent in his mother's loving arms, the mere weeks I held him and protected him before the Auphe took him…they were enough to keep him on the somewhat straight and relatively narrow. It was miraculous, how he stayed sane from vague memories and a nostalgic possibility of something more. I shook my head, taking Dante's face between my hands to steady his gaze on me, then I dropped my palms to his shoulders. "I never meant for you to feel we were ashamed of you, Dante. You did things in days that your mother and I needed years for. Shame is the farthest thing from my mind when it comes to you."

"You don't believe I can handle the Vigil myself."

My fingers clenched down on the muscles of his shoulders, but he didn't even flinch at the pressure. His eyes flickered in confusion to the reaction, but that was it. His mouth stayed in its loose pout that made him look both contemplative and by Goodfellow's account Milan-runway-sexy, whatever that meant. Scratch that, it meant I needed to keep an eye on the damn puck. Dante was just getting more and more attractive with each passing month and that pledge of monogamy seemed more and more flimsy with each comment Goodfellow made about that level of attractiveness. But that wasn't the point here.

"Dante, we have underestimated those bastards so many times. I've been gating just as long as you have if not longer and they've bagged and tagged me. Your mother too and she has thousands of years of survival on us. I know you're strong. You… you surpass me in so many ways." I groaned, stepped back from him, and raked my hands over my face. "Unfortunately, communication is not one of those ways, which is saying a lot because I'm not in touch with these fluffy feelings you're asking me to express. Bottom line, Ace, is that I don't want to _lose_ you. Not again."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dante's mouth. "It's like mother." I felt my eyebrows wrench inward, not following. "I know her power. I know, but I can't stand the thought of leaving her alone."

Well, apparently he was better at emoting than I'd thought. I could see relief on his face. Every feature that had been taut or wrinkled, relaxed. He understood. "They are watching us all the time. They're going to see you eventually, Cassie too. There's nothing I can do about it. So if you don't want to wear the hood you don't have to."

Dante pulled up one shoulder in a shrug. "It keeps my head warm."

I snorted. "That it does."

"I will not be hidden, but I will not step into the light." He said it as a promise, as a compromise. I still didn't like it. When he was a child we bundled him up and held him to our chests like he was a glass vase. Niko wanted to keep him hidden and safe. I wanted him to see the world. What had changed? Now, when he was so much stronger and smarter and now when I had better control of my own powers than ever before, I was exiling him. I showed him off when he was barely two and capable of only laying out deep cat scratches, for shit's sake.

"No, you live your life the way you want to. Just keep us in that life so we can back you up when you need it or pull you back when you're being an idiot." I motioned for us to head down. Our job was done here anyway. Dante grabbed the back of my jacket, reminding me of the infant I had lost months ago. I craned my neck to watch him over my shoulder, but he did say anything. He didn't have to. He was getting the hang of that Leandros communication. I love you pops, I love you son, pointed look and a short nod. I grabbed his arm and shoved him in front of me playfully. "Go on, get going. Your mom's gotta be getting bored listening to Niko gush over this whole Bacchus, Dorian Gray shit."

Or so I expected. Niko had been playing phone tag with Nero for the last five hours; apparently some vampires had secretaries that weren't very skilled at phone courtesy. I figured I would walk into the penthouse with Castiella slumped at the kitchen table with Niko pounding information into her head until she got moody enough that he even grasped her temper was flaring. What we found was Niko in his own living room with a book in hand and Promise lounging beside him. It actually caused me to pause since I didn't often see them in an intimate setting. Not that Promise was on top of him or even ill clad, but she was reclined across the couch with her head in his lap and a crossword in her hands. I never thought she was one for the Sunday paper.

"Uh…" Obviously, my shock was affecting my speech, because I was usually so much more eloquent given the opportunity to make fun of my brother in anyway.

"She said she was craving Indian food and made it very clear that she could get it without assistance," Niko announced without even looking up from his book. I straightened; that caught my attention.

"You just let my pregnant lover walk out in the middle of the night without protection?"

"Her attitude seems to be protection enough," Niko replied bitterly and flipped a page rather forcefully. Nik normally didn't comment on her recent moments of hormonal grumpiness. He was more patient than Gandhi with me and I was Mr. Attitude like it was my job to spread cynicism and bad vibes throughout the world. Having him to use barbed words toward Cassie was an anomaly. Promise smirked from her relaxed perch, not affected or concerned by her lover's terse frown.

"He's only upset that his ploy didn't work," the vampire hummed. Niko's jaw clenched as Promise tilted her head back to catch my baffled gaze with her violet eyes glinting mischievously. Again something I didn't see often. "She sparred with him for the right to leave without the protection. And she laid him on his back."

"Damn it, how did I miss that!" I hissed. It was a rare occurrence to see Nik bested at anything (rarer still to see him spar with Castiella), but if anyone could do it, it would be my girl. It probably also helped that he would pull his punches. Not because she was a woman, I'd seen him hack off a female's head if she deserved it, but because she was a loved one and a loved one carrying his nephew. "Did you at least get pictures?"

"No need." Promise reached overhead to tilt Niko's chin up with a dainty finger. He jerked away from her touch with a sour expression, but not before I caught a glimpse of a nice bruise on his cheekbone. It was about the width of Cassie's wrist. I kinda imagined how it went. My lover liked to toss her weight around in a very literal manner. Nik probably caught her arm, but Cas was still able to use trajectory pressure and airborne power to hit him. Like those strixie, Cassie had an affinity for attacks from above. The first time I even attempted to tangle with her she brought me down with a move that had her thighs wrapped around my neck and me seeing stars from the flat of my back.

"Could you tell me which restaurant she went too?" She didn't make this deal with me and after talking about the Vigil with Dante I feared the devil would show his face. Just like Dante said, I didn't like leaving her for the darkness to take her again.

"One of the six within a mile radius?" Niko offered. Man, he was grumpy when he was beat.

"One of the three open around this time of night?" I countered, narrowing down the search. "Don't be a sore loser." He glared sidelong at me, but didn't say anything which meant he actually didn't know. Niko was as honorable as a freakin' samurai, but I was on top of that loyalty pyramid. He would have coughed up the information if he knew, even if Castiella demanded he not do so. "I'll take that as a no."

"I've managed to schedule a meeting with Nero Gray tomorrow," Niko called before I departed from the room back to my side of the penthouse. "You're coming with me."

"Why?" He gave me another terse glance and I sighed. So that was how it worked. My girlfriend springs out of jail by beating up one of her wardens and I get in trouble for it. Lovely. I grunted and swung around Dante, leaving the conversation with a white flag thrown.

Back on my side of the penthouse, I picked up my leather jacket that I'd thrown over one of the island barstools and started to pull it back on. I wasn't leaving Cassie out there alone at this time. Not with everything so quiet. Quiet meant something was about to happen, everyone knew that.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I cringed as the sharp scent of curry and cheese wafted into the apartment; if I'd been able to track her down on the streets I could have played it off as just stumbling upon her after taking care of the Strixies. Her opening the door as I was shrugging my gun-concealing jacket back on was more like being caught red-handed flipping through her cell phone like a paranoid lover. Not that she ever called anyone other than us on the phone. I silently cursed Dante for not warning me; I'd wondered why he didn't trail after me to find mommy too.

"If I try to make up a good lie I would probably be in deeper shit, yeah?

Cassie grinned and put the take out bag on the kitchen island, before grabbing up the lapels of my jacket and yanking me against her supple chest. The feel of those warm curves and the hum elicited from her throat made tingles run to inappropriate places, which was obviously what she was going for. "If you lied you'd be in deep shit. If you admit you were unnecessarily worried and about to try and track me down I'll just lay you flat like your brother."

I chuckled, accepting the kiss she offered. "I'm not sure that's punishment."

"It won't be," she countered. "Since unlike your brother you won't be wearing a stitch of clothing when this happens."

My grin widened and our kiss deepened, not even minding the rustle of fabric as Dante made his presence known in the room. "I take that to mean you're remaining here for the night?" he asked, not fazed by our affections or implications. Maybe it was different when you parents looked barely ten years older than you...nah, I probably would gag if I saw Niko and Promise acting this way even now.

"I'm on lockdown until morning," Cassie assured our son. Dante nodded and interrupted our embrace further to dot a kiss to his mother's cheek. He had his coat on too.

"I have to go out for a while."

"Go out? Where?"

He eyed me with confusion for the third-degree as if I didn't have the right to give it or he just didn't understand why I would. "The park," he offered, then headed for the door as if that was all a fifteen-year-old needed to tell his father about his plans after freakin' midnight.

"Hey, wait a minute," I called and shoved at the front door before it slammed shut after him. Like any rebellious teen he completely ignored me, only without the eye roll and arrogance I used to show Nik.

"I'll be back in an hour. I'm just meeting someone." He flipped his hand in a wave and headed for the stairs; he liked the contained environment of the elevator about as much as Niko did.

Cassie was standing behind me as I watched him go and when I questioned her with a look she only shrugged. Where the hell was he going meeting someone? Like he was having a secret affair or something? My jaw clenched. Dante opened the stairwell door. "Dante, if you're going to see Delilah, so help me—"

"It's not Delilah," he said with exasperation, sounding his age again. "It's just someone who assisted me in the past and asked me to return a favor. That's all." He paused with the door open as I puzzled this out in my head. In the past? With the Auphe? One of his surviving teachers maybe –if there were any. "Love you, dad."

"Dante!" I snapped at the stairwell door swinging shut. That didn't sound right. He didn't sound as if he were trying to keep secrets from me; it was his typical 'I'm not going to say because it doesn't need to be said' evasion, but it still didn't feel right. I waited a full ten seconds before I grabbed my keys by the door and started after him. A small hand caught the back of my jacket and Cassie reeled me back into the penthouse with a sharp gesture that almost had me on my ass.

"You are _not_ following him."

"Where is he going?" I countered, as if she could tell me. "This is the third time this week!"

"Cali, I know you and Niko are attached at the hip and to you that is how you show your loyalty and affection, but maybe Dante doesn't want that." I wasn't convinced. I especially wasn't convinced that anyone from his past wouldn't just lead the Auphe right to him. Cassie cupped my jaw, tilting my face down to catch her eye as she heeled the front door closed. "Dante was monitored and corralled by the Auphe every second of every day. Give him some breathing room. Ask him in the morning."

"What if he gets into trouble tonight?"

Cas snickered. "He's a Leandros. He gets into trouble every night. If it's bad, he'll gate home and you can ask him about it in the morning." Cassie renewed her grip on my leather coat, slipping it off my shoulders one at a time. "Now. I got you some _puri_ and _pakora_ so how about we eat some spicy Indian food, then have some spicy hot sex until we pass out?"

I hesitated. I actually hesitated, but I knew she wouldn't let me leave to stalk my son and honestly I needed to cut the umbilical cord at some point. We didn't always have alone time like this either...

"He'll be fine, Cal," Cassie raked her fingers through my dark hair, not insulted by my pause of consideration and obviously more concerned about me than our son.

"I'm grilling him in the morning," I grumbled. Cassie smile triumphantly and released me to go for the food. She was such a guy sometimes; food first, then sex...and maybe then some leftovers. I kissed her neck as she set out the take-out containers on the island, wrapping my arms around her waist and snuggling in close. Who knew? Who knew that the kid with a chip the size of Louisiana and Texas put together on his shoulder would end up with a badass angel? One that was just lazy enough to eat out of the carry-out container instead of getting clean plates and enjoyed shoot-em-up movies as much as I did. The bachelor life was so overrated. I didn't mind being a dad so much either.


	9. Chapter Eight - Cal

CHAPTER EIGHT

CAL

Early shift at the Ninth Circle was worse torture than being at home when Niko had a day off. No one made me watch documentaries or tested my knowledge on Geography and History. No one forced me to jog around the park for miles upon miles, but I still hated it. It was boring. Actually, boring didn't even begin to cover it. Ishiah kept the bar open as New York law dictated. Although considering we could technically open at 7am, he was still putting his own two cents in and moving that back considerably to three in the afternoon. Most of our clientele were nocturnal so opening any earlier would be pointless and a waste of an electric bill.

This was the time in human bars when the dead-end-job, loathing-life barflies came in. Getting an early start in drinking away their sorrows. Not at the Ninth, which was a shame because those barflies had some interesting stories and it was even more amusing to listen to them become wildly inventive by the sixth shot with a beer chasers.

The Ninth wasn't the first bar I'd worked at, but it was by far the longest stint I'd held onto; if one counted all the days I was absent chasing monster, chasing my lover, or just saving the world. It was nothing like the human bars by appearance, but at its core they were one in the same. Pitiful moaners hating themselves, life, or something even more insignificant. The showboats trying to get laid or get into a fight to gather better stories than those they actually lived. The casteless just looking for a place to warm up and watch the world go by. The leeches clinging to anyone who might give them a speck of self-worth, monetary scraps, or just a drink. In a paien bar they were all there too. Except the leeches were weird-looking slug-like creatures with round parasitic mouths lined with razor teeth; they had to be cousins to the vodyanoi, there was no question there.

At the moment, I had the showboat of all showboats in front of me, rattling on and on about Bacchus the amazing vampire lord who made it to godhood. Pretty much everything I'd been avoiding listening to when I walked out of his apartment yesterday. I sliced limes with a little more vigor than usual to drown the puck out. Not that he was getting the hint; he wasn't really clucking at me anyway, but with the way Bacchus Jr's Junior had been eyeing Cassie I didn't really want her listening to this fanfare either.

"He, of course, came to me first," Goodfellow went on (and on). "Unsure of how to capture the verbose taste of the first batch. This often happens when one doesn't keep proper notes during experimentation. I was able to enhance the flavor with…"

His voice droned, but I'd lost interest at the first word in his version of how wine was made. When I finished cutting up the lime, I gripped the handle with great deliberation. I almost would have rather hear him bellow at me for taking off his finger, just one. He had nine others.

Cassie smirked at me and ticked her finger in warning. She'd obviously lost interest too, but she wasn't abiding my violent fantasies. I grabbed another lime, flipped the knife, and went back to chopping.

Other than employees and the two freeloaders in front of me, the bar was empty. Dante promised to come by at seven when I would leave with Nik for our Nero meeting, where I would probably hear all this shit again. He was taking watch over Cassie in his book, but this time I wanted my lover to swung it around and corner him about his recent vanishing act. He'd evaded me last night, coming in after Cassie had exhausted me enough to pass out, and he slipped out this morning too – he'd showered and left while Niko dragged me around the park track before the sun rose. All I'd gotten out of him was that it was nothing and that it wasn't dangerous. Our definitions of that word were probably vastly different.

Another hour, I reminded myself. Honestly the only reason I'd come for a the early shift at all was to avoid Niko tying me to a chair to do 'research' before the meeting. Apparently, Salamandier had sent over some interesting information about the Vigil he'd dug up from the jump-drive we'd sent him. Of course, the alchemic mishap hacker had probably graduated to the Vigil's secure system by this point, but either way didn't want to know. I _did_ want to know, but I didn't want to sift through all the script until my eyes went red around the edges like Nik did. My brother would be informing Cassie of what he found anyway, so I'd just wait for that.

"Ah, yes, the coliseum was both christened and desecrated in so many fashions that night," Robin hummed nostalgically.

Cassie was grinning slyly as she poked at the ice in her water with a half extended Auphe nail. It had become cute at this point –the way she used the formally nightmareish talons for mundane daily things. Partially due to the fact, I was sure, that she could retracted them completely into her fingers with that paien magic. Dante could too, though his seemed to be stunted in comparison. Castiella's six inches verses his three; for my boy's benefit I hoped that wasn't a euphemism. He and I had yet to get to the point of competitive measuring…I never really got to that point with anyone actually. I took a moment to wonder if that was actually something guy's did as Cassie wound up her comeback.

I'd seen it coming. I knew that look in her eyes and the roll in her shoulders. She was going in for an easy kill. Of course, I usually saw that look with more passion when she was about to tackle me to the bed, but sometimes she would give that half smile right before she corrected Niko or, as in this case, burst Goodfellow's exaggerated ego. "So after five hundred years, he just welcomed you back like the mentor of gods and a mass orgy ensued with wine flowing over everyone's bodies?"

"Hardly elaborate enough a picture to envision the worship and carnal passion of that," he stopped short, tilted his head to reconsider, then frowned. "You were there." As he'd obviously forgotten.

"He punched you in the gut while simultaneously trying to rip off your genitalia," Cassie said, footnoting the story with a much more amusing deleted scene.

Robin waggled a finger at her, still grinning. "Ah, but how did the night end?"

"With me leaving once the gyrating mounds became too jumbled to figure out what was whose."

"Exactly. Bacchus had a fine time that night."

She took a pull from her water, dark eyes on me with a quick lift of her eyebrows. "He still punched you."

Goodfellow's stories were always so much better with Cassie around. I didn't get to hear much more of the tale before Niko came in with Dante, motioning for me to wrap it up and not even taking a seat. I didn't blame him for the briskness. We denied the old jackdaw help, which meant wherever this was going we weren't getting paid. That also meant I was just as eager to get this shit done and over with. The art history nuance died long ago.

But first. "Hey, Champ," I teased with a brazen smile. He gave me his typical look of uncertainty. Uncertain that he knew what I wanted and uncertain if he cared. I continued to grin as he eased into the barstool next to his mother. "What have you been up to this morning?"

Dante's full lips dipped into a little frown. "Am I upsetting you by leaving? I try to assure you of my plans and I am safe on the streets."

I snickered. Only my son could make me feel guilty about knowing where he was. I tried to not suffocate him, but after losing him for fourteen years or so to the worse evil in the world made me a little more than paranoid when I didn't know where he was. Cassie was able to vocalize my concerns a little more sufficiently, which was probably why I had initially wanted her to talk to him about this. "It isn't your absence that concerns us, hon. We just feel you're trying to hide something from us and you know there is no reason for you to do so. You are free to live as you see fit, but it would be nice for you to keep your parents in the loop."

"I didn't want to bother you with this…acquaintance," Dante started. Samyel interrupted us for a moment as he put a glass of Coke in front of Dante and dusted his palm over the kid's hair with affection. It was amusing how much my co-workers liked my lover and my son more than me. Not that there wasn't a ton to love, his constant puppy-like curiosity, his steady temperament, and –let's face it – his adorable pout that he got from his mom were enough to made the coldest of hearts turn up a degree or two. When he was a baby he even got Ishiah making cuddly faces.

When Samyel moved off to continue chatting with Carfuel at the other end of the bar., finally, our first paying customers came in. It was just a couple of vampires in dark hoods to stave off the muted light from the sun setting. They were regulars and ones that got along well with pretty much everyone, but me. That was a common occurrence really. I leaned in a little closer to Dante and my lover; they were regulars, but that didn't mean I trusted them.

"You were saying?"

"When I was being held by the Auphe there was someone guarding me. Distantly, but he saw me leave them. He could have announced my intentions and the Auphe would have found me before I found you. He didn't and I owed him for that." Dante paused to take a sip at his drink and I took the time during his explanation to gather my things. Niko seemed antsy about this meeting, or maybe that was still a little fanboy butterfly fluttering about in his stomach.

"There was also someone with him that I was fond of and I wanted to make sure that person was well. The last few days I was taking some of my spare time to help him locate an article he'd been searching for. It's nothing more than a trinket, a bauble. I'm sure it only holds sentimental value to him." He turned in his chair as I came around the bar to give Cassie a kiss goodbye. "And it's done. So you have no worry for me to wander off again."

I clasped my hand over my son's nape and gave it a short squeeze. "I don't worry about you wandering off. I worry about you not wandering back."

"I'm a Leandros," Dante countered with a little smirk that mimicked mine more than it would ever resemble Cassie's sweet smile. "I'll always come home."

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, ruffling his hair a little more roughly than Sammy had. "I'll see you guys and a couple of hours. Don't be shirking on your protective detail, hm?" Cassie rolled her eyes at that and smacked me across the ass as I tried to sidestep away.

I left the bar with a grin on my face. Happy again, now that I knew Dante's little secret. The Leandros' didn't keep secrets. It was good to know he finally understood that. Even the Grays seemed to hold that motto among family, outsiders though, they were rather tight-lipped with.

Nero didn't live far from the penthouse, but it was clear his posh studio was rented. He didn't plan to stay in Manhattan long, but while he was here might as well rent in style. His greeting was just as polished, shaking both Nik and my hands and motioning us inside almost with a bow. He didn't even flinch when touching me; he got credit for that.

"Is it just the two of you?" he asked as he guided us to a set of four modern black chairs gathered around a marble coffee table. It was only bistro-sized with nothing but a weird silver hand sculpture in the center. The whole room was designed with hard edges in black, silver, and white. There was a pop of red here and there, but it felt cold, even for a vampire. Maybe I just expected something more dated. Victorian crown molding or a chez lounge or something. He was dressed no differently than before, actually he was dressed no differently than Robin might. His shirt was gray and pinstriped and his slacks were immaculate. I wasn't, but that didn't stop me from plopping my rustic black jeans down on his pristine chair.

"You asked to see Niko," I countered and adjusted my gun as I sat. The chairs were more comfortable than they looked.

"Ah, yes," Nero stumbled. He left us in the mini-living area as he flit into the kitchen alcove. His pillow-top bed was tucked away to the left and made in a more militant manner than Niko's bunk. Other than the bathroom everything was 'open concept'. Good thing he lived alone. It did have a wet bar, of course. A two range stove and a rolling dishwasher, but it had a wet bar. "I just assumed your family would be joining you. You seemed partial to that…familial togetherness."

I glared at him. The vampire was trying to be slick, plunking ice into three rocks glasses; it didn't matter how amazing his liquor cabinet was, Niko wouldn't be using his glass. It didn't take a genius to read my brother's body language – he hadn't even sat down yet, still looking around the studio in search of exits and possibly clues that Nero would gloss over. It also didn't take much to read between the lines and grasp that Nero was really asking where Cassie was. Unless he was sweet on Dante too.

"You can't handle her, stud," I growled. Both of them shifted to look at me. Niko had a view of the back of my head, but he knew me better than a fat kid knew the bottom of a bag of cookies and probably saw my peacock feathers shuddering as I propped my ankle over my knee. Nero eyed me as well, though his expression was one of meditative consideration. After a moment he went back to pouring two glasses of scotch with one of those shit-eating smirks on his lips.

"The jealousy is interesting," he commented. "I wouldn't have thought it to be an emotion that an Aupheling could display. Of course, I know very little about your kind. Or your ancestors." He pulled a mini water out of the equally tiny fridge behind the counter and unscrewed the cap. "I'm also impressed by your immediate deduction that I was asking about Castiella. Agnes chose well when she attempted to hire you." He tipped the water into the third glass, watching the bubbles slip between the ice. "Although I wasn't asking due to a romantic interest."

I shifted in my chair, getting more comfortable but also loosening my jacket to let my holster peak out. He was making his way around the bar, first taking the water to Niko, which was highly surprising _he_ was that deductive. My brother accepted the glass and I certainly wasn't going to turn down a good drink. Mommy dearest and her drunken fits and blackouts had Niko and I cautious with the hair of the dog, him to the point of complete abstinence while I drank with that thing called moderation. The thumbs width of scotch Nero offered me wouldn't affect me at all. Even if it was a thumb's width of poison I doubted it would do much more than make me gag. Poisons had a tendency to fall to their knees before the Auphe genes.

"She's pregnant, yes?"

I nearly broke the rocks glass. I controlled the reaction though. "Excuse me?"

Nero gave another brash smile, pointed at me with one finger unwrapping from the drink, then turned around. He rushed over to a bag propped up on a luggage stand against the wall near the door and riffled through. "This isn't what you have come to me for but I have a certain affinity for the talents of a healer. My own ancestors, as your Castiella pointed out, are the Gwragedd Annwn. Most are born healers, but I don't hold that gift so I strive to understand other species through other means."

"What's your point, Nero?" I demanded and put my glass down on the coffee table. That scotch was certainly not enough to calm the sudden need I had to plug this asshole in the back of the head and walk out. Call it overprotection of my lover and unborn son, but I really didn't like it when someone other than family was in on the celebration.

He found whatever he was looking for, reached back and put it on the wet bar, then dove back into the bag. "You're also, from what I can tell, rather reckless. Am I correct? You have your fair share of scars."

Niko snorted behind me in wordless agreement. Not that he was one to talk; he had plenty of scars himself, it was just that most of them were accumulated on his path to becoming the amazing untouchable ninja. Since he was the one that gave any affirmative response, Nero moved over to him and handed over two more tins like the one he'd showed Cassie outside of Robin's apartment. "As a precursor, I suppose I should explain that I've lived with the Gwragedd Annwn tribe for the last five hundred years and have been learning all they can feasibly teach one that doesn't hold the same gift as them. A lot of it has to do with chemical and—"

"Not why we are here," I snapped. The heels of my dirty boots to his glass coffee table were a punctuation of my irritation. I didn't care if he was cooking meth in an abandoned storage unit, I wanted him to tell us what the hell he wanted and wanted to get out of here.

Nero ignored me. Well, he offered a quick glance in my direction like a scientist watching a mouse run a maze, then tapped his finger to the blue rimmed tin. "The blue is for Castiella. It is a salve for Caliban to apply over her stomach. It will benefit the child, make it stronger and Castiella healthier." He half turned to me with a hand that could have been offering me a pissed off scorpion for all I was willing to take it or anything he was about to spin. "With her genetic make up she is incredibility strong I don't doubt, but the opposing forces between the Auphe mammalian and the peri avian births would make it difficult for her to have a child. Considering it looks as though she will have a live birth, this will help strengthen that mammalian aspect. Think of it as like the prenatal vitamins humans consume during pregnancy."

I didn't like how much he knew, whether he studied this shit or not. I also didn't like that he was right and Cassie's spill a few nights ago made me wonder if he was more aware of the problem than even Cas was. Niko seemed to think so, since he quickly pocketed the blue tin and motioned for him to explain what the black tin was for. "That is a healing salve. Can be used for pretty much any wound, no matter the depth or severity. It can be used on scars as well, though older scars can be more stubborn."

Niko tossed that one to me, thinking the same as I was. That sounded an awful lot like Suloyak's magic fun dip that nearly healed one of my head wounds around the staples Niko had snapped in my skull. I unscrewed the container and took a deep sniff. It certainly smelled similar and likewise didn't have that bat-shit-crazy stench Suloyak had when we faced the real thing. I touched the tip of my finger to the goop and smeared it over a small scratch left from the strixie fight on my arm. Just like the Rom salve Kalakaos gave us, the salve warmed my skin and instantly knitted the tissue back together. The scab left behind flaked off with a brush of my hand.

I lifted my arm to show Nik. For all this guy's yammering he had the goods and we could use them. My brother took a contemplative sip from his over-priced water as I pocketed the black tin. I could tell Niko held on to his hesitance for probably the same reason I took the salve like a free sample. Very little good came from Suloyak, unless it was in his pre-psycho days, so trusting that this cure-all came without consequences was naïve.

"In your travels, have you come across a Romani healer named Suloyak?"

Nero's polite smile twitched, then dropped at Niko's abrupt comment. "I assume you have had the misfortune as well." He glanced between us. "I'd heard he'd found the means to release himself from his inadequate cage, but I was hoping for exaggeration. Were you the ones to dispatch him?"

"Into many pieces," I offered, leaving out all the trouble we had doing so.

Nero nodded. "He was a cousin. I'd met him only once when our tree was bountiful. Now…it is hard to find a distant relative even with out lifetimes extended by the Gwragedd Annwn bloodlines."

That explained how there was only three generations through just as many millennia. I knew vampires lived long lives, but I doubted even they couldn't go much passed a thousand.

"Fascinating," I drawled. "But what does all this have to do with the painting?"

"Ah," Nero went back to the wet bar to pour himself another round. He didn't offer me any this time. "If you've spoken with Goodfellow and know of the Gwragedd Annwn, I'm sure you're aware of that portraits meaning. It is a curse to our line, but one of the only psychological penance, not physical consequence. It is a reflection of the eldest's soul. Their misdeeds and sin on display where they would otherwise be hidden." He downed half his glass and began to look pensive. I rolled my eyes and hunkered down for a nap. Being friends with Goodfellow long enough gave me that sixth sense for detecting when an epic soliloquy was about to start up. Nero wasn't a threat. Nero seemed more like one of those traveling peddlers from back in the day. Swindling town folk out of money for the waters from the fountain of youth. Only his spiel was the real deal.

I left Niko take the reins as Nero went into his sob story. His father was remembered in glorified prose for that painting and Nero wished for us to let that remain. He was asking us to remain silent about the truth (that being the portrait reflecting six other 'eldests' since Dorian Gray and now it was connected to Nero). In return we had full access to limited quantities of his wares.

"Larger request at a discount, of course," he added. He also added that he had killed the last elder son with good reason and assured me that his brother didn't fit in my 'innocent' body count. For a moment I revealed in the fact that Niko didn't claim the same long ago. Judging by the ghastly after image on the painting, Nero's big brother gave me a run for my money with the sinning.

"You planning on keeping the portrait looking pretty?" I asked. I dropped my feet from the table when Niko hit the sole of my boot with the back of his hand. I'd established my attitude and now it was time to be respectful apparently.

"Yes," Nero answered without hesitation, but with a lot of wistful hope. Like he knew how hard that would be. With his lifetime extended and his skills I could see a lot of sins hunting him down, but even I thought he'd be the type to dabble, but never succumb.

It seemed all too simple, but sometimes life was nice enough to be simple. Nero asked for nothing more and even gave us a second tin of the healing salve for the road. So we got ourselves a medicine man on call and all we had to do was maintain that the Portrait of Dorian Gray was just another myth linked to a story linked to a myth. Fine by me. Now I just had to figure out how to test out the blue tin salve, because I wasn't slathering that over my unborn child without making sure it wouldn't give him two heads.


	10. Chapter Nine - Josh

CHAPTER NINE

JOSH

There were three things my father told me to consider when entering a new environment: find the exits, find the demons, then find those in danger. He was a bit paranoid, I would admit, but also probably the most valiant man I'd ever known as well. And my father had no idea what monster lurked in the shadows. His demons had merely been humans that chose the darkest path. The human monsters that listened to their own 'demons', maybe manipulated by the supernatural. Those used to be enough. Enough that he followed those rules like a religion. Find the bad men and protect those in their sights. Of course, right now –being the only humans on this godforsaken street – we were on the only ones in anyone's sights.

It was no wonder the cab driver laughed when we asked to be dropped off in front of the bar. He pulled over at a cross street two blocks from our destination, cut two dollars off our faire and said, "That heat won't be enough, kid," referring to my gun that I'd thought I'd hidden well. "If you really want to go into hell that badly, I'll give you a couple of blocks to reminisce on the life you're leaving behind."

So either the cabby knew about the preternatural, which wouldn't be utterly surprising knowing what taxi driver's saw on a daily basis, or he was preternatural himself. Either way he believed the extra nuisance of walking two blocks would have us reconsider our pilgrimage. If only it were that easy. George thanked the driver with her usual glowing smile, shoving the two dollars back as tip.

Once he pulled away from the sidewalk she turned to me and offered her hand for me to hold. "Would this make you feel more comfortable?"

"I would feel more comfortable if you'd drag me up to Broadway to take in a corny musical like most girls." That was a lie and she knew it, by her amused smile she knew it. I loved her because she wasn't like most girls. Because she was special and effervescent and better than me. Georgina touched her hand to my cast, worry wrinkling her brow for just a moment. It was my dominant arm, but that wasn't going to stop me from taking down anything that came near to us.

"Don't you have his number or something?"

Her smile returned. "I deleted it after my boyfriend nearly shot him last time we visited my hometown."

I took in a long breath and let it out through my nose. I never asked her to do that and she never spoke of it, but knowing she would release that anchor without question was the reason I would be marrying her and Caliban wouldn't be invited to the wedding.

"I'm regretting it a little at the moment, I'm not going to lie." Georgina was gazing down the street toward the next one crossing.

Even the shadows seemed darker, like oil spilled and made a nestling home in the negative spaces. I was regretting her sweet gesture of deleting that number for my self-confidence as well, but I refused to admit it aloud. "Stay by my side. I need my hand free, but I want to feel you beside me at all times, okay?"

She nodded, pressed to her toes to kiss me. "Then you need to keep up."

Georgina took the lead. Her stride had a purpose and one that no human would question, but there weren't any around _to _question. We crossed over the first street, then the second, and then we were in hell; probably circles two through eight. George continued walking down the sidewalk like she had no reason to concern herself with the wolfish noses lifting in the air to catch scent of her or the parasites of the supernatural world tracking her like a heat-seeking missile. If only they were just vampires; the majority of vampires had adapted to a harmonious life with humans instead of bleeding them dry like legend. No these were preternatural from all walks of life and therefore all means of dangerous.

I grabbed George's waist, not minding the clunk of my cast to her hipbone. I pulled her closer to my side. "Please stay close."

"They can smell fear, you know," she teased me. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she spun around on her sneakers in front of me; she'd worn jeans today and a dark shirt. An oddity, as her attire usually was just as vibrant and flowing as her personality. Maybe she was taking heed to may advice, wearing clothes that could protect and shoes she could run in. It didn't help much, even in a black tee shirt she glowed like a candle.

Her action, one that was supposed to stop me so she could calm me, had the adverse effect since she stopped us right near to a pack of loitering werewolves outside of a brownstone that was either a pound or a crack house. I took in a deep breath, glaring at the dogs as George slid her fingers over my open jacket. Any other time and that combined with her playful smirk would have had me dragging her off somewhere private. But there was nowhere private here.

"You need to calm down," George told me, pressed onto her toes again and knocked her forehead to mine lightly. "We just need to get to the bar, find out where Cal is, then we're off."

"This is _his_ territory," I grumbled. Tonight that encompassed two males; the two that I was unable to protect her from, but they weren't the only males drooling for her warm amber-hued skin. This was preternatural territory, rife with things that wanted to eat hearts, blood, flesh –you name it. I started when a group of wood nymphs scampered by, laughing and chattering in their own language. Well, maybe every one of them wasn't about murder and mayhem. I frowned as the flock looked back at us, round faces as varying as the bark of trees, but each of their green eyes trained on us as the one thing out of place.

"This is Robin's territory," George corrected, obviously she was only considering Hob tonight. "From what you've told me, pucks don't like sharing with other pucks."

I decided not to take that as etched in stone. Hob didn't seem like one who played by the rules. Whether I decided to voice that concern or not didn't matter; George's mind was set and she was off down the sidewalk without a care for the dangers around us. I lengthened my stride to catch up and felt my back go ridged when the Wolves trailed after. My hand slipped under my jacket, fingers wrapping around the grip of my gun.

There were five of them. Two hung back: One too young to be a threat to my boot and the single, disfigured female among a brood of furry men. The rest of the three were barely adult, but ready for everything that I previously mentioned. Find the demons…well, they just found us.

I caught George by the back of her knitted hoodie and yanked her against my hip as I spun around, arm extended, gun aimed. "Try me," I hissed. Training in arenas with the Vigil wasn't simulators and virtual reality. They threw us in there with monsters, real breathing monsters. And all we were armed with were tranquillizer guns. Some of those monsters took more than one shot to take down. Some of those monsters got to comrades before those shots were fired, but never on my watch, never on my team. These Wolves would find out why if they took a step closer.

"Lost, little sheep." The closest one stepped off the sidewalk. His legs were twisted in a much more canine manner, heels lifted off the ground and thighs curved so drastically outward they looked broken. His shoulder twitched when it rolled forward, telling of an injury received some time ago. His nose also looked to have been broken once, either that or it was naturally crooked due to unnatural breeding from the All Wolf cult. "We see few here."

"We have no business with you," I snarled, baring my teeth since that seemed a better means of communication with them. "Let us get on with our business and you won't be picking lead out of your hide."

He lifted his humanoid chin, eyes to the sky as if contemplating. He may have been adult, but not by much. He and his friends were the equivalent of a human that just turned twenty-one; ready for a night of binging without thinking of consequences. "We are bored. You will entertain us."

"And feed us," another commented. This one had a mouthful of teeth only made for his elongated snout. I shifted the aim of the gun on that one. Playing games was one thing, but a hungry wolf needed to be watched closely. I had the inclination that he most likely wasn't the only one.

"I'm sorry to say, but you might have to settle for bar food," I countered, tightening my finger along the trigger. "Or cannibalism if you take another step."

I was only human. My nose was human, my eyes were human, and my reflexes were limited. There was only so much I could hone when given natural-born limitations. I'd learned a lot from my father and the Vigil; I'd become stronger and more aware, but I hadn't sensed him beside me. And that meant he'd snuck up on me _passed _George. I didn't hear him, didn't see him in my peripheral vision…not until his pale hand clamped down over the barrel of the Berretta. He even managed to slip his index finger under mine to keep me from misfiring in shock.

I snapped my head to the side, wrenching the gun out of his power, and floundering with my other arm for George behind me. She caught my cast in both hands and pulled me back a step. She was letting the newcomer take over and take over he did. I had no idea what was going on, but those gray eyes that met mine when he had grabbed the gun struck a familiar nerve in me. Great, just who we were looking for and here he was to save the day.

He was shorter than I remembered…

"You here to help or make this worse with that smart mouth of yours?"

He gave me a brief perplexed look, but it was all I needed to realize quickly that this obvious teenager was not Caliban Leandros. I lifted the gun on him and herded George against my back. He didn't seem to care about us though, tilting his chin up as he assessed the Wolves.

"You need to leave. Your blood stinks and it's difficult to clean it from the sidewalk." His voice was a level tenor, smooth and almost calming. Or rather, he sounded like a teacher lecturing a problem student. As I stared at his profile he differentiated himself as an individual I'd never seen before. Definitely a teen, with a long nose, a full lipped mouth, and long dark lashes lining those strikingly light eyes. His skin was nearly flawless, even though he was still going through puberty, marred only by old scars along his neck. They looked like bite marks; Wolf bite marks.

With this in mind, –a history with these monsters clear– I steadied my aim on the werewolves again. By this kid's words, he didn't want a fight and I would be more than happy to walk away without sharp teeth attached to my ankle. The hungry Wolf paced around both of us, out into the street. Not that there were many cars passing by on this type of road, no one wanted to drive into the inky blackness of hell. There was some snarling and a few English curses mixed in, then the leader (I couldn't actually consider him an Alpha as this pack didn't seem to be complete) lunged at our savior.

It was a feint. He pulled back immediately, straightening as much as his curved spine would allow. His nostrils flared and his thin lips were drew back to show a full set of yellowed human teeth. "Peri…you're not right. You don't smell right."

"If you wish to cause trouble please do so elsewhere. My granduncle doesn't wish for more bodies strewn about outside of his establishment," the boy continued. I glanced to the building we stood outside of and realized with a start that George and I had managed to reach our destination. Our stand off was right next to a well-lit bar with a wooden front framed around two large windows. A neon sign overhead proclaimed it was, as suspected, the Ninth Circle. Inside was dimly lit, but the movement of bodies was clear along with what looked to be a décor centered around several large tree trunks that were stretching and sprouting all around the building itself. The heating bill in the winter had to have been a strain.

"A peri bar?" I muttered to myself, wondering why the relatively reserved and slightly righteous race would both cater to alcoholic debauchery and associate with an Auphe. Even a half Auphe. The peris and the Auphe did not have an amicable history together, even before human populations exploded.

Sharp movement among the werewolves averted my attention back to them. The hungry one snapped his mouth full of canine teeth at the boy, but that was the last threat he would make. In a flash of black fabric and cream skin, the Wolf's nape was in the kid's grasp –back exposed to him. He planted his foot on the curved spine and kicked hard enough for the Wolf's vertebrate to snap. The beast howled and crumpled to the ground. The rest darted into motion. I shoved George toward the bar without a backward glance and opened fire.

The boy and I finished off the young pack within seconds. My bullet to an ignorant head and another neck snapped by the gray-eyed teenager's bare hands. The two remaining were those that had hung back. The female growled inhumanly, guarding what was probably the youngest pup, but neither of them moved. I didn't want to finish the job. There was no reason. These were children stretching their egotism. When to fire and when to lift my finger from the trigger; this was a time for me to still my hand. The kid beside me seemed to realize this as well.

He eyed me as if to assess my level of threat next. In front of us the other two werewolves slunk away down the alley, dragging their allies with them. The only one they left was the one I'd shot. I frowned, realizing the kid had only damaged their spines, which took them out of the fight, but wouldn't kill a werewolf. The Wolf whose neck he broke would likely die if he wasn't already, but the one he kicked would survive. He was better than me, kinder than me…

His gaze flitted up and over my shoulder, attention drawn. I turned in fear of my fiancé and what other trouble she found. George was gone from my side. Without my notice a small pixie of a woman had caught her arm and pulled her back against the side of the building, probably when the gun reported. I raised my aim upon the newcomer. No matter how innocent she looked –round faced, doe-eyed, and with the full lips and pale skin of a doll– she could be far more dangerous than even an Alpha Wolf.

Her hand was to George's shoulder. Soft, no restraining grip to it; Georgina could have shrugged to remove it, but I didn't trust anyone on this street. "I wouldn't do that," she murred. The doll's head tipped toward the boy. "He's rather protective of me."

I could feel the kid take a step behind me. They had me flanked and they had a hostage. The woman, girl…I couldn't tell her age, lifted her hand from George's shoulder and offered me a smile. "We don't want to hurt you if that helps at all. In fact, I would be happy to escort you both to a…safer part of town."

"And then what? You take your turn at the humans?" I snapped. I reached across the gap for George's arm. She did one better in grabbing on tight to my sleeve and stumbling against my side for protection. It was comforting that she had that confidence in me and I didn't intend to fail her. I should have known that wasn't her ploy though.

George was not a wilting flower, she didn't cower and she didn't shake. She managed to talk a Puca out of fleecing her purse, she'd stopped a bar fight between huge drunk men and a vampire with a chip on his shoulder, and she'd kept her head when faced with the red-eyed nightmare grinning as he mentally eviscerated her. She didn't come into my arms for protection against monsters, but to protect the monsters from me. "Josh, wait."

The female lifted her hands before her as Georgina pulled my gun to aim at the asphalt. There was a shimmer behind the doll-like girl and a sudden light, then there were wings. At least twice her small height in berth and beautiful. They were barred in soot or a charcoal color, veined subtly in red. A peri. A small peri, but winged nonetheless. I glanced back at the boy, remembering the werewolf called him a peri, remembering we were in front of a peri bar. I lowered my weapon, loosened it in my grip, and slipped it back into its holster.

"You might want to invest in a silencer as well. The police will still venture here sometimes," the female peri cautioned.

"You," Georgina whispered. Her whimsy from earlier had dissipated quite a bit, when exactly what I had feared happened. Now she looked as if she'd just seen the ghost of her father standing before her. Her arms were wrapped around her waist in a hug; her body was listing toward the female, but her feet seemed as if she wanted to run in another direction. "You're…"

"Castiella," the peri offered. She extended her hand toward George. They had a similar energy, an illumination from within, but I doubted this woman had the same gift as George. Their beauty was more than physical, though they were both very attractive on a superficial stand point as well. Georgina wrapped her amber-hued hand around the peri's pale one.

"Georgina King," she answered without hesitation and without the false name I pleaded for her to give. If he didn't remember her unforgettable essence then Grimm might remember her name. The peri, Castiella, tilted her head to the side as if the name rang a bell for her too. Her fingers, just as dainty as George's, slid back from their shake. Her eyes – a dark brown like cherry wood or mahogany – raked up and down my fiancé's form, then panned over to me in caution.

"Josh." Might as well introduce myself too.

"You're his," George continued. Now she was smiling, mirthful and excited. "You're Cal's lover. You're the one I saw! You're alive!" With that elated expression George glanced over at the boy, the smile only faltering slightly from uncertainty. "And…"

Castiella followed her sidelong look, then shot a more fearful one down the street with a frown. "Hon, put your hood up, please." She was talking to the boy and his expression soured; the first he'd shown outside of level impassivity.

"I already discussed this with dad—"

"And you didn't discuss it with me," she countered. Like a mother. Holy shit.

I stepped back to get both Castiella and the boy into my sights as well as to let her approach him. Caliban's gray eyes and this Castiella's bowed mouth. This was their son. And the son obediently pulled up his hood to prevent anyone else from noticing the same. This wasn't good. Proclaiming I was in over my head just became a vast understatement. Even if Caliban was able to help us with the nemesis Hob, I was going to be burned from the Vigil's lips if they found out I associated with a Red Flag fugitive and didn't inform them that his family was still alive. The apprentice patch in my pocket felt like it was on fire.

"Well," Castiella murmured. She ran her hand down her son's back and spun on the ball of one foot to face me. "My best guess is that you are looking for Cal? May I ask for what means?"

"We need his help," I chimed in. I could understand the waver in her voice, the suspicion on her face. I wasn't a wilting flower either, but I knew the look of a woman that had just seen the first love of her lover walk through the door. I'd felt the same jealousy when George immediately wanted to run to Caliban for safety. I took George's hand, her left hand, and made sure the ring was in view. It was modest; not a huge diamond that cast sparkling lights about under the dim street lamps, but a creature skilled at all observational techniques would notice. "There is a monster after my fiancé and I want help in killing him."

She lifted her eyebrows, a shade or two darker than her hair. Where Georgina's curls were the shade of autumn leaves lit by a fiery sunset, the peri's flowed in long waves over her shoulders like those same leaves weeks before the first snow. "Normally that would be a very odd request, but considering…" Castiella stopped and rested her hands on her hips. "The boys are currently on a job at the moment. Would you like me to have them come here when they are done or would you rather the comfort of a place that isn't stinking of Wolf and revenant?"

She was small, slender, and completely unassuming. A peri, a peri sleeping with a half Auphe? I had the distinct feeling that the Manhattan Chapter, shrouded in rumor to begin with, had left a tremendous amount of information regarding their fabled projects. His lover and son were supposed to be dead. The lover shot down by parties unknown and the son consumed by fire. The Vigil here declared no connection to any of it.

My breath caught as the piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Funny how it caught my eye, those articles on the warehouse fires where no casualties were reported. The comments, no matter how crazy posters' comments were, coined a female with wings, an angel smiting the sinners. I followed after that angel as she led us away from the bar, back toward the safer streets we came from. Their son was said to have died in a fire, the scars on this boy's neck were most definitely from a werewolf, and every location that was set ablaze that night was in affiliation with the Kin. They most certainly pissed a peri off; honestly, the Kin were lucky daddy hadn't joined in on the vengeance spree. What still bothered me was the van I'd seen in the reporter's photo. If the Vigil had no connection why were they there?

"Judging by the bruises on your beau the monster has already shown its face to you," Castiella commented as we walked. I was surprised when the son allowed me to keep a pace behind him. The ladies took the head and somehow –in his calm presence– I felt like George was safer with him at her flank than even me. His mother was peri and his father half Auphe; angel and devil bedded together and now I understood why the word Nephilim was whispered with rumors of an heir to Caliban's throne.

In his own right, Caliban could be considered a Nephilim; a son of man and a god – even if that god was more akin to the demons of hell. Some people even claim the wars between the peris and the Auphe were how the stories of fallen angels battling those in liege with God began. The Auphe were Lucifer's kin…of course that didn't explain why the Morning Star was considered handsome, but exaggeration was key in a good story. I believed in God, but like many questioned the validity of the bible. Some reasons for that skepticism were profoundly walking in front of me for starters.

"We were blindsided by him," George explained. She elaborated as carefully as she dared. Mentioned that I was trained in firearms, but it did little to preserve us. I couldn't argue. She didn't, however, tell Castiella who our adversary was or what he wanted. "If it's all right with you, I would rather explain more when Cal is with us."

Castiella smiled and nodded amiably. She didn't ask anymore, but pressed more toward small talk. Even asking about Georgina's plans for our wedding. It kept the conversation neutral and made all of us more comfortable for the duration of the subway ride that took us to Broadway of all places. As content as I was walking streets were the majority of bodies was compromised of humans, it made me nervous to know a man such as Caliban was living in an area that seemed to be devoid of monsters. Like a wolf amongst the sheep herd.

Castiella trotted up a short set of stairs to a towering apartment complex right off of Broadway. Even George had to pause as the peri opened the door. Both of us were gazing up at the gleaning glass architecture stretched skyward above us. I felt the kid slip passed to begin leading the way into the complex without any concern for us. Castiella just smiled warmly. "Come on. It isn't made of candy and I'm not going to shove you into an oven."

"It's much different than Cal's usual home sweet home," George murmured. Castiella laughed.

"If it makes you more comfortable it's actually Promise's home sweet home, she just has a few tenants." Promise, the vampire Georgina mentioned, was dating Caliban's brother. Vampires were known for making good financial choices over the centuries they lived. From hoarding items they knew would be priceless in time to inheriting millions with fraudulent activity. I decided I wouldn't ask how this Promise came upon the million that it would cost to own a home in this area of Manhattan.

Several million considering the sprawling penthouse Castiella ushered us into. I just stood in the living area with my eyes wide and my mouth nearly gaping. It was stylized for the modern era. Granite, cool lines, leather chairs, and tastefully framed artwork. Since there weren't any kill trophies or gun racks nailed to the walls I had to assume the vampire had been the one to decorate. That would also explain the blackout curtains. I forgot my father's rules for a moment, lost in this luxury.

"Welcome to our home," Castiella said sweetly. I startled as she'd swung around behind me. Her hand already running experimentally down my injured arm. I tensed and jerked away despite the pain it caused beneath the cast. "You're right handed, aren't you?"

I didn't answer as she circled around me. It wasn't the prowl of a predator, more like a lion cub skipping around a new playmate. Her son plopped down on a barstool next to the kitchen island. The room had an open concept which left the living, kitchen, and dining areas completely exposed. It also left the kid with a clear view of everyone from his perch and he watched with that impassive observance. Castiella stopped her circling in front of me. "Ambidextrous with a gun then? It was a good shot on that pup, not a lucky shot."

I wasn't sure if it was a compliment, but I let her continue to study me. She was being respectful enough not to touch me again at least. "My father taught me."

"He taught you well," she offered. Her eyes were entrancing; the color seemed to shift between different shades of browns and reds as I held them. "How's the pain? I can dip into Cal's secret stash if you want something with a little more oomph than aspirin."

I shook my head. "I can endure."

Castiella's eyebrow lifted in a quirk and she stretched her neck to her shoulder to give George a look I couldn't read. "You have a type, hm? Stubborn, gun-toting, cutie with just a touch of arrogance and a vast distrust of everyone and everything."

George giggled, rubbing a consoling hand over my shoulder opposite to the one Castiella had just touched.

"Georgina?" I tensed at the lilting voice that joined us. I hadn't sensed or heard anyone else in the home and that just made my throat close in nerves. George took it in stride; happily scampered over to the porcelain sculpture come to life she called Promise. They hugged like long lost friends.

I was out of my league. Positively and unequivocally out of my league. And things didn't get much better when the door opened behind me. I swung around with my Berretta already extended and level with a head shot. I was greeted in turn with the thick barrel of a Desert Eagle between my eyes. I would die for Georgina, without question, but I never thought it would be tonight.


	11. Chapter Ten - Cal

CHAPTER TEN

CAL

It took everything I had not to pull the trigger. A testament to Cassie's claim that I wasn't becoming more and more Auphe with each day despite the logical web Grimm had cast in my brain. When faced with the barrel of a gun and those kind of eyes bearing down the sight at you, Caliban would have let a bullet loose without question. The temptation was there, even after recognition clicked and I realized where I knew this hunter from. George's hunter. The douchebag of a boyfriend that told me my son was better off without me before recanting the statement like the gentleman he pretended to be.

My jaw was set and my free hand was pressed back against Niko's chest. For several reasons: one, I didn't want big brother shoving me aside in case one of the guns went off and a stray bullet hurt someone who didn't deserve it (namely the bystanders I could smell inside the penthouse). Two, I didn't want big brother making the decision not to shoot for me. And three, I wanted him to realize I _wasn't_ going to shoot and have faith in that choice. I'd let Niko down a bit lately, let the mask slip too much, and part of me wanted to have that unflappable confidence in non-monster me he used to have clear as the glint of his katana slicing through the air.

It was still a stalemate. The blond human wasn't lowering his weapon and by his own set jaw he had no intention to until I lowered mine. He was at a disadvantage though. I could kill him. While he didn't intend to lower the gun, when recognition hit his eyes as well he no longer had the intention to shoot it. He also wasn't left-handed; he had a slight angle on the gun. He compensated well for it, but it made his shot avoidable if I was quick enough. I _was_ quick enough.

_One gate and I'd be behind him, Niko could dodge the startled bullet this pitiful sheep let loose as well as the one that sailed through the human's head. An easy kill._ A waste of time, I reminded myself. Another impulsive action that would let Niko down, piss my lover off, and show my son what a bad role model I was.

I slid my finger from the trigger, pressing it to the side of the gun as I lifted the barrel vertical. The guy looked like shit anyway. His right eye was slightly swollen and purple all around the socket, his lip split and bruised yellow and violet too. His right arm was in a cast and I doubted those were the only injuries. Why make his day worse? Oh, yeah, because I hated him. "Abusive relationship, kinky sex, or lost bar fight?"

The Berretta lowered only enough that he didn't intend to shoot me in the head. A gut shot would be all the more painful, but I was pretty sure he only held onto the weapon because he was in a house full of things that could kill him in a heartbeat. Poor shit had to be pissing his pants. But why was he here? Ice ran up my spine when the reasons for his unexpected visit hit me. "Where's George?"

"I'm here," she called and came into view as she pulled her boyfriend –ah, fiancé look at that cute little ring and contemplate why that pissed me off later – back into the penthouse so Niko and I could enter. I was relived to see her. Her boy would need a pretty dire reason to come to me for anything and her safety would probably top that list. "Hey, Cal."

It was a party in the penthouse. Promise was standing near to George, probably in the middle of their reunion when I came home. Dante sat at the kitchen island, relaxed and surveying closely. Cassie was _in_ the kitchen, but I had scented her a lot closer to the door when it opened, which meant she had walked away unconcerned even when I was staring down a 9mm and threatening with a 45. I smiled at her for the unspoken meaning there. Her confidence in me hadn't diminished in the slightest, but then she hadn't seen me when she was gone.

I bent to receive George's hug, looking her over for injuries as she moved. She'd been there when whatever had gotten to her fiancé had attacked, but other than a small bruise on her chin and a light cut on her forehead she was unscathed. I mentally gave the hunter credit where I would never do so verbally. He kept her safe and nearly lost his arm in the process. "I somehow doubt this is another happenstance visit to New York," I commented as she greeted Niko too.

"No, this is a request and…a warning, I guess."

"A warning?" Cassie echoed from her leaned position on the island. She was using the counter to hide her stomach, not ready to announce it to my ex-girlfriend. I wasn't sure if that was for my sake or Connor's, but I would leave it for now. There was no reason for George or her lover to hear about that mess. "You said you needed Cal's help. If that involved blackmailing him into doing so I should have left you to the Wolves."

Wow. I hadn't heard that kind of tone coming from my lover's mouth since she'd met up with a Wendigo I had a one night stand with. "Cassie, George wouldn't threaten me." I wanted to comment on there being no need for jealousy too, but I had a feeling that would just anger her more. As it was the contradiction made her bristle, her wings flashing in and out of existence for all of five seconds then she was back in control.

Cassie shook her head at her own behavior. She hated her bi-polar hormones probably more than me. Control that she used to have during every second of every day was being yanked out from under her feet. "I'm sorry, that was—"

"Understandable," George cut in. She looked just as I remembered her, red curls crowning her head in a cascade of coppery ringlets, her skin the amber hue of a mixed race, and her…self…radiant with knowledge and purity. She was human, the epitome of or more than. She was what god (if there was a god) had in mind when he 'created Eve'. And her honey voice seemed to soothe even Castiella. "It can't be comfortable for you to have me in your home, but you invited me all the same. I appreciate that. And even if Cal can't help me I needed him to know what happened in case...history repeated."

"What happened?" I asked, eyeing her banged up protector again to see if I could determine the monster from its bite. Except there were no bite marks. All of his injuries could have been obtained during a normal bar fight, a rough one. "What the fuck is your name again?"

The hunter's jaw tightened in insult and he bit the syllables out through straight teeth. "Josh Dent."

"Nn," I grunted, then looked at George. "You planning on kids?" Her brown eyes widened at a question I would have probably never asked if I hadn't had a family of my own already established. "Just saying you owe it to the first born to name them Harvey." There was a soft breath of a laugh near to me and I thought for sure it was Nik until I saw something akin to a smile pull at Josh Dent's lips. I pointed at him without take my eyes off George. "He just laughed…at a joke I made."

George's smile was much more obvious and pure in its happiness. Her brown eyes almost looked wet. "You've changed."

She didn't say anymore, but nodded a couple of time to indicate this change was good. Good enough that Josh could let off a chuckle in my presence instead of sporting that scowl of his all the time. Niko brushed by me from behind, casting his fingers across my back as if to agree with George. My brother made his way over to Cassie, helping my lover as she went about making both tea and coffee for our guests. My son's eyes were still fixed on me.

"Well, while the hosts get the drinks together, lets sit down and you can tell me the big bad that is hunting you down." I motioned for them to go into the living room, surprised that even Josh conceded to the suggestion.

I reclined back in my leather chair, letting George and the huntsman relax across from me in the matching sofa. Not that there was much relaxing to be had. Josh was twitchy. He watched me with hawk eyes, daring an occasional assessment toward my son at the island. Even Niko was rewarded with suspicion when he walked over to Promise with his usual soundless gate.

Josh was in a den of lions and he knew it.

"So who or what kicked your ass?" I inquired. Georgina held her back straight, hands in her lap. Nervous. I didn't see George nervous often. Even trapped under the hands of a malevolent puck and ambitious Wolves she held strength. Always knowing I'd break down the doors and save her. She hesitated now. She didn't want to tell me. For the first time she was doubting I'd be there in the doorway when she looked for help. "George?"

"It's Hobgoblin. He's returned with the same intended goal."

The soft leather of the chair was suddenly as uncomfortable as nails on a plank of splintering wood. I sat forward. "That is impossible. I sent him on a one-way trip to hell."

George's round shoulders pulled up to her ears in a shrug. "He must have gotten out. Pucks are known for their manipulative—"

"Not with the Auphe. There is no way," I countered, waving her off.

Niko had rejoined the conversation in interest at my side as he tried to conclude a different angle. "Georgina, you're sure it was Hob? Cal and I have seen what a room full of pucks can look like. It is difficult for even a trained eye to draw differences between one or another. We had to mark Robin to separate him from his kin."

George was shaking her head before my brother even finished. It was a resolute gesture and neither of us pressed further. She looked, she read him, and fabricated memories couldn't fool a seer of her caliber.

"He attacked you, but left you both alive?" I questioned. "Hob isn't the type to leave loose ends. He wants George for her gift, but why leave Josh alive? If he wanted to scare you back to me, murdering your boyfriend seems like the most efficient way to do that."

"Because that's what you would have done?" Josh snapped callously, challenging me to disagree.

I grinned, baring teeth. "Yup."

"He wanted her to get here safely," Niko interjected. He placed a hand on my shoulder. Anchoring me to the chair as well as warning me to be a good boy. Don't scare the guests, Cal, it's in poor manners. I rolled my eyes, but let Niko go on. "Hob set this up meticulously. He would know the dangers Georgina would face reentering this world. She holds his prize, damaging the container is his prerogative. Not to mention he knew your contempt for a new lover would distract you."

I was going to point out that George could date whoever she wanted, but that would have been a lie. Even with Cassie at my side, whom Hob didn't know about, I still didn't like the choice Georgina made in a significant other. There would be contention, even if it was just two stubborn, male egos slamming racks together like rams.

"Well, I guess we should locate the damned crowns again. He can't do shit if he doesn't have one," I groused.

"What does Hob intend?" Dante's light voice carried to the living room like a whisper. He hadn't moved from his seat across from his mother. Castiella paused in setting out the mugs on the island. Motherly instincts picking up on something or just surprised by his curiosity with the discussion.

"I'll explain it to you later, Champ. It's a long story." I raked a hand through my hair sighing with my nose to my wrist. I lifted my eyes to George. "One of the crowns is in Tumulus. The Auphe grabbed it when I was fighting of Cererbus. The other—"

"Please explain it to me now," Dante demanded. He stood from the island and approached with enough tension in his body that Josh moved for his gun.

I pointed at the human and growled to warn him what would happen if he didn't stay his hand, then panned my gaze over to Dante. My boy didn't make demands often even at his age, which meant this was more than him feeling left out.

Niko stepped in to give him a condensed version. Leaving out a lot, including my undercover stint with the Wolves, our trek down to Romani land, and how we saved Snowball's runt as well as George and Niko himself. He kept it to the basics. Two crowns both holding the power to transfer 'strengths' or talents from one person to another. Hob wanted George's gift of seeing and he needed Rom blood to complete the ritual.

"He nearly killed your uncle," I added, when Niko decided to gloss over that information too. "And he hates my guts for chucking him to the Auphe. You feel included now?"

Dante's bowed lips thinned to a tight seam. "I wish you had told me before."

"And why would I do that? We didn't really expect a sequel."

His gray eyes flickered toward the empty dinning area. His furrowed eyebrows curved up toward the bridge of his nose. "Hob survived the Auphe by owing them a favor," my son explained. I shrugged off Niko's hand and bent over my knees. Pieces were falling into place and it wasn't a picture of a daffodil field they were making.

"Did you in turn owe him a favor?" I hedged. His eyes were upturned, guilty. I wet my lips. "Hob was the old acquaintance you were helping these past few days?"

"I owed him a debt. His silence was the only means for me to leave the Auphe. I didn't know his history with you."

"Which crown did you give him?" I waited, but Dante's expression reverted to that baffled-puppy look I was accustomed to. Actually, it didn't matter which crown. Hob had been wearing the second when I kicked him into Tumulus. Either way… "Did you retrieve the crown from Tumulus?"

Dante didn't even have the courtesy to show regret. He just responded with a candid, "Yes."

I shot up out of my chair, startling not only my son, but George and Josh too. "You went into Tumulus! Are you insane? You assured me it wasn't dangerous, Dante! We just got you back from them and you just waltzed back into their cage?"

"It wasn't dangerous. They will not attack me at present. I know this."

"Did they tell you that? Promised to wait for you to come of age before you're drafted into the ranks of Satan?" The words came out with a sharp, bitter growl. I couldn't comprehend the stupidity of that concept. Me, king of the idiots and I couldn't comprehend that level of stupid.

"Why are you mad at me? I don't understand," Dante asked softly. He was showing remorse now. Pained by my berating him. "I didn't lie and I had no knowledge of this situation. If I had I would not have made the choices I did."

"Go to your room," I hissed. I couldn't deal with this right now. Hob knew. That asshole knew Dante was my son and knew the boy had gone home. He used Dante to get to me. If Dante had been stolen by the Auphe the puck's debt to them would have been realized without repercussion. The fact that my kid popped into Tumulus and got the Calabassa with ease was a bonus. That didn't mean Hob wouldn't try and manipulate my son back in to Tumulus to get him out of the way, to devastate me in a time that I would need my head on straight. It was all a ploy. Hurting Josh and putting him on the defensive to antagonize me, gathering us all together like fish in a barrel, and plucking the metaphoric strings wrapped around my son's neck that still shackled him to the Auphe. It was a shock to my system and my psyche and it was a punch well placed by Hob to my gut.

"Go to your room," I hissed again. "Think about why I'm mad at you right now. We'll talk when you figure it out."

Dante's mouth parted in confusion, almost pouting like his mother. It was an expression usually endearing in its innocence. "I'd rather help now."

"Dante, you heard your father." Cassie came around behind our son. Motioning to his room with a nod, since her arms were full with the tray of mugs, sugar and creamer. Her tone was just as firm and cold as mine; I was glad she was on my side in this. Dante, on the other hand, looked wounded and perplexed. He retreated nonetheless, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind him.

I turned to our guests as Cassie set down the tray. Neither of them looked particularly aghast or disquieted by the show. George looked a little guilt-stricken, but this was hardly her fault. Josh, after catching my eye, finally leaned back in his seat. He propped his ankle to his other knee. Apparently, ranting like an over-protective papa made me human enough for a tenuous glimpse of trust.

I ran my hand over Cassie's spine as she moved to let Promise bring over the pots of coffee and hot water. The touch was to thank her for her support and she responded with a kiss to my cheek. Assurance that I did good, despite the niggling feeling in my stomach.

"So," I sighed, my arm snaking around Cassie's waist. "Hob's apparently got this shit all figured out. How do we fuck up his plans?"

"Kill him." It was Josh's turn to give me a savage smile. The split in his lip cracked a little, but he didn't seem to care.

I lifted my eyebrows, almost smirking myself. "Good plan."

Killing a puck, as Robin might say, was a task far easier spoken than accomplished. As a fellow pan as old as dirt, he was no more pleased with this information than we were. In fact, I saw his tanned complexion fade to a pasty green the moment Hob's name was uttered. Not a color commonly seen when he had so much fuel for his mischievous teasing gathered around the breakfast table. Instead of needling dangerously into Georgina and my history to rile up his best friend or even the obviously uncomfortable newcomer, he kept cursing softly in various languages and running his hand over his face.

Last night hadn't gone very far with discussion considering how many curve balls we had been fielding. The happy couple retired to wherever they were holed up while in NYC shortly after dropping the bomb. We all agreed that even if Hob was already around, he would wait to watch the show for a little while. Like any puck he enjoyed a good story, especially retelling a good story. And rushing in to finish the last chapter would dampen the climax. He wouldn't attack George yet. No, he would wait until I was reinvested in her.

George and Josh had rejoined us for breakfast. Currently, we were clustered around the formal dinning table on Nik and Promise side of the penthouse. Pretty sure, it was the first time we'd ever used it, but the four-seater on the Aupheling side of the sprawling apartment couldn't contain us without exiling some to the island. At the moment, I didn't feel it a good idea to leave anyone out.

Dante never came out of his room last night and when I went to check on him he merely said he 'didn't yet understand the root of my anger'. I'd been ready to explain but he wanted none of it. Saying "An excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie, for an excuse is a lie guarded." Whatever that meant. His mother had coaxed him out for breakfast, but that brought up another issue. Cassie wasn't happy. She put up a good front, cordial and friendly to Georgina and Josh, effortlessly taking to the responsibilities of hostess, by making us a full meal of omelets, bacon, and home fries, but she was reserved – quiet even.

She curled against me at night like any other. Kissed me and told me she loved me, but it all seemed like a loaded gun. Not that I thought she'd attack or throw a tantrum. It just seemed like she had a lot more to say but bit her tongue. Maybe it was just my paranoia of having my current lover and ex in the same room. That tended to bleed contention like a sliced artery.

Family matters were amiably brushed aside for this. Our bond was strong enough to survive the displeasure for the moment, but I needed to watch it. Ex-love or not, family came first.

"This might be the best omelet I've ever had, Cassie," Georgina claimed, attempting to break the tense silence with small talk. George wouldn't lie even to gain favor and Cas seemed to realize this, smiling warmly.

"I've had a while to master the art," she responded. Her appetite hadn't wavered even with our current company and situation of which I was extremely glad for. The stress – facing a foe that nearly bested all of us before – couldn't be helpful for a mother-to-be. "Where are you and Josh staying while here?"

"A hostel in Brooklyn. It's quite nice actually. Newly renovated and clean."

Cassie nodded in response to George's explanation, which doubled as assurance that they weren't endangering Georgina's family and that they were sequestered but not isolated in a rat motel.

Josh was eyeing Dante's plate as if he was waiting for something to move. Probably trying to figure out why the son of an Aupheling was mutely eating egg whites and fruit like his uncle instead of crunching through a fifth piece of bacon like his father. His attention drew to Castiella quiet suddenly when she spoke again, but then so did mine.

"I think perhaps we should open the guest room to them?" her dark eyes flickered between Niko and I. "It would be safer."

The lot of us stared at her. We'd never offered our home to our clients before. Cherish might have stayed with Promise, but Promise hadn't been housing the Leandros family at the time. Plus Cherish was her daughter _and_ that turned out horribly.

George might not have been a typical client by any means, but that didn't make the suggestion any less ludicrous. Her intimate knowledge of us and our history together should have been a deterrent, especially for Cassie.

As I gaped at her, Niko aimed for discussion. He spoke with caution though, as if he knew there were landmines scattered around us. "Are you sure you're comfortable with that Castiella?"

My lover sighed. A small smile fleeted over her features, but it was more rueful than genuine. "I know what George is to Cal. I know what she did for him. I don't see her as a threat though, and I can overcome my discomfort to see her safe."

Sometimes I forgot how different Cassie was from normal girls. Sometimes I forgot how much more experienced she was in life…and how much she was like Niko on that bleeding-heart considerate level.

She placed her fork beside her finished plate and offered a smile much stronger than the last. "Hob is trying to unbalance us with needless defensives and jealousies. Maybe we should be big boys and girls and not let that happen."

After a generous pause, Promise chimed in. "We do have the guest room here that we could make up for them."

The guest room was on her and Niko's side. The spare room next to mine was now Dante's. It left space between George and me. A metaphoric barrier that should have been enough to quell any jealous vibes, but this wasn't even about that. There were secrets in his house that George and the huntsman weren't privy to. My second son being the least of them, but still on the list. The first on our secret list was also the first on my list of those I wanted dead.

"No, it's better if you don't," I countered. "It's as good a painting a target on this house. There are other things we have to watch for and I don't want George involved in that." I glanced over at Cassie. "Just like I'd rather you weren't involved in _this_."

I expected a fight, braced for the insulted glare and a lecture about how whatever her condition she could kick my ass half-asleep. Cassie stared for a moment, mouth moving slightly as if she were nibbling at the inside of her lip, then she nodded. "Okay."

"Mm, what?"

"Okay. Hob is your and Niko's fight. If you need me, I will be there, but I'll stay out of the way in the meantime."

There was a catch. There had to be a catch. Obediently submitting was not in Castiella's repertoire. I crunched slowly though the last slice of bacon on my plate, panning my eyes over to Robin for a little enlightenment on what his best friend of a thousand years was planning. The puck rolled his green eyes, tipping another sip of whiskey into his coffee from the flask he had magically produced from his pocket at the mention of his arch nemesis' name. "It is called respect, Caliban. I know you find it ever so painful to practice such courtesies, but others can show it with aplomb. Take the gift and shut your grease-covered mouth."

I scowled and wiped at said mouth with the back of my hand. There were no grease remnants. I focused on George then, leaving a discussion of Cassie's real intentions between Cassie and I. Save it for later. "I'm not trying to be _Dis_courteous," I said, edging my words with a sidelong glare at Goodfellow. "You know how well-liked I am in this city…in this world. Hob isn't my only enemy and you and your boy don't need to get caught up in a mess when some paien breaks through the window, again, because I pissed of his mom…or killed her."

There was a moment where George sat studying me. She was curious. I could see the twitch in her mouth, the slight tilt of her head. She wanted to know what I was afraid of, because she obviously knew it was fear that drove me to scoot them out. George didn't ask. She gave a simple nod and offered a smile across the table. "We'll be fine where we are. You need to keep your family safe here."

There was a profoundness to her words. A sweet warmth.

"Well, I intend on keeping you safe too."

Beside me Cassie stood from the table, her complexion pallid. She pardoned herself and disappeared into our bedroom. I could hear the door shut. 'Morning' sickness had been plaguing her for the past month or so. An odd mid-pregnancy symptom, but Katherine had said it shouldn't harm either of them considering it wasn't chronic or even daily.

I didn't follow her, as I made up an excuse for her in front of our visitors; that was probably a huge mistake. I still had a long way to go before I became lover or father of the year. A _long_ way to go.


	12. Chapter Eleven - Cal

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CAL

That afternoon the huntsman fought the ninja. Or more accurately, and not nearly as fun to say, Niko took some time out to spar blade to blade with Josh. It was clear the toe-headed kid was used to a much shorter edge weapon. Probably like me, he preferred tactical knives or even a bowie, but a swordsman he was not. It didn't help that he wasn't as coordinated with his left hand, but Niko was right to drag him out into the middle of the apartment, pushing the kitchen table back for room. He needed to be taught or Hob would slice and dice him like an onion.

George had disappeared with Promise on the other side of the penthouse. I didn't know if that was to avoid the contention between Josh and me or if she was avoiding Castiella out of some overanalyzed sense of respect. My girlfriend was monitoring the match from behind the kitchen island. She did that when her back was bothering her, said the cold tile and granite and bent position made the ache less. Pretty sure she was trying to hide her small baby bump from our guests too. She was calling out instructions to Josh to aid him, allowing Niko to concentrate more on not maiming him instead of his fixing wobbly form.

I was stretched out on the leather couch, neck straining a bit to watch them with an expression I tried hard to make uninterested. It was tough to do so when Niko dropped him on his back by sweeping the flat of his katana under Josh's feet. I let off a little snort that was partially sympathetic, though that didn't soften the glare Cassie shot in my direction.

"You think you could do better?" she called to me.

"Yes," I offered.

"Alright come on over. I'll break your wrist so you can have a turn."

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the television. I knew she wouldn't actually break any of my bones, but bruising them on principle was another matter. It was best I just try to ignore them and let my brother focus on pummeling the huntsman.

"Actually," Niko mused. I cringed and tried my best to appear enthralled with the Discovery Chanel. I could hear the katana tap against his heel, the whisper of his clothes – not his footsteps – as he came closer to the living room area where I sat.

I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers so they were in view. "Don't pick me. Don't pick me."

"Cal, up," Niko demanded over my shoulder. I dodged when I felt the vibration of the weapon's edge near my ear. The sharpened blade skimmed through a few hairs loose from my half-ponytail. Who needed a trim with a blade master brother over your shoulder?

"Why am I being punished? What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything and that is the problem," Niko lectured.

He caught me up by the back of my shirt and nearly lifted me off the couch with one hand. I allowed it, letting him stretch his arm to keep holding on as I walked around the couch and into our makeshift arena. It was times like these I really missed that old warehouse we lived in where half of it was converted into an actual sparing space. I had less chance of breaking Promise's expensive things there. Like the vase I had to dodge on the end table that was probably worth several hundred more than the five dollars I would have spent on it at Goodwill.

Niko herded me over to the spot he'd previously been crouching. Squared me off in front of Josh. Huntsman looked a little winded; that tended to happen when one had to alter their natural movements to protect an injury. Not to mention he'd been fighting the prince of swords. In all honesty, he hadn't been doing half-bad with Nik, but my brother was pulling punches and kindly avoiding his broken arm. I wouldn't be so compassionate. Hell, Hob wouldn't be compassionate and that was the point of this, right?

"Don't kill him," Niko warned me as he slapped the katana in my hand. It was the one he used when training with me. One that he didn't mind getting scarred and nicked with badly angled swipes and wild parries.

Josh's shoulders straightened, angling horizontally just a fraction to put his casted arm behind him. It would've done him better to use it as a bludgeoning weapon. His left foot was forward, but not enough that I could lung and take it off without him smacking my blade aside. Unless I used my super speed to do so and that was encompassed in Niko's warning.

Josh was human – much more human than my brother – and I was to even that battle ground handicap. No gates, no Auphe-speed, no bloodlust.

That last one was the toughest. This douchebag had a knack for glowering at me in ways more insulting than half of the colorful, derogatory ways I'd been addressed in the past, present, and probably future. His hazel eyes were set deeper in his skull, leaving the perfect aesthetic for glaring. His brow shadowed the lids of his gaze to make it seem hooded in disgust. To him, I was barely a ladder's step above Hob. I was a monster – distrusted, disliked, and a hair away from enemy. I was fine with that. In fact, I was starting to like the idea of kicking his ass.

I flipped the katana in a flourish I learned from watching Niko – not as deft, but impressive enough to tell Josh I wasn't a slouch with or without my guns. He preferred firearms too, considering every time I'd met him he had a gun to my face, but the way he held the sword angled and ready showed he was a quick learn and his mentor was the same as mine.

"Suppose this is better than group therapy, right?" I commented.

Josh's eyes flickered up as if to roll them dismissively and without further ado I was in motion. The swords clacked together as he reacted quicker than I thought he would. A turn, a swipe, another clang of metal to metal.

For a guy with one hand he was good, but I was better. Taught by a man that could give all Seven Samurai, Yoda, and Bob Anderson a run for his money. Taught by that mentor for much longer than a couple of hours. I bared my teeth in a smile much too perverse for a friendly sparing match and went at Josh again.

Our weapons locked for a second before flying into a dance that almost drew sparks. We caught air or fabric in close dodges, the edge of the other's blade in close quarters. He did use his cast to shove me back hard across the chest, but I paid it forward with a swift spin of my borrowed katana that cracked the flat of the weapon to the center of the cast as he retracted the limb. He drew back, shaking his hand that had probably gone numb with sharp pain.

The pressure when the metal connected intensified. The blunt force growing with each dive in. It ceased to be play, (at least, for him) if it ever was from the start. I had some frustrations to vent and by his gritted teeth and wild slashes, the huntsman was no different.

I caught him across the apex of his shoulder, just a graze but enough to draw blood. For the first time in a while, I felt that giddy shudder of my inner demon waking. Caliban wanted to play. And why shouldn't he? This was a game of blood sport, no? Pitted against each other, because we had something to say, something to prove.

_Little sheep for the slaughter. Best beast wins. Show him he is nothing. Show him his strength is only a fraction of what you are._

Niko and Cassie were silent. Letting us bang our blades together like bucks vying for territory. I knew what this was at its most base form. Nothing more than that. I was stubborn and Josh prideful and this was two lion's clawing at each other's manes. Showing off who had the bigger balls.

At some point, Goodfellow had stolen into the penthouse. Not a hair out of place or an eyebrow lifted, he greeted those not engaged in combat as if it were a hand of rummy at the kitchen table taking place in the middle of the apartment. He accepted Cassie's peck on the cheek, before circling around the island to watch the match with a stoic look of boredom on one of the barstools.

He'd probably done his fair share of armed swaggering in his eons of puck-ary, so I disregarded the apathy and knocked Josh's feet out from under him.

Josh's back made a meaty thump on impact, but oxygen-deprived or not he rolled before I could lay the katana at his throat. No matter how much Caliban strained, no matter how much sweat and blood were shed, Niko said no killing and I would honor that. Pretty sure I'd have two pissed off females on top of a very disappointed brother if I messed that one up.

"Come on, give up. I'm getting bored."

"Don't be a dick."

As responses went, I was actually impressed if only for the force with which he spat it out. Josh was on his feet, breathing heavy, but not giving in. He couldn't get out much more than that simple insulting demand, but with the wind knocked out of him it was enough. He didn't back down, didn't toss a witty comeback in my face and I didn't think it was because he couldn't come up with one. No, it was because he didn't think I deserved the air it took to utter the words.

I flicked the katana to the side as if clearing it of blood. I hadn't drawn much more than a dribble from his shoulder and that was sticking to his shirt not the blade, but it felt right. Though I felt it more like I should be shaking red dripping from six-inch talons. Josh sneered as he readied his stance again. He even bared his white teeth a little.

I felt Robin shift behind me, but figured he was rising to fleece one of my beers from the fridge or go to Cassie to flirt in excess to distract me. It wasn't until the poniard was sticking three inches out of my chest that I realized my mistake. That we all realized our horribly stupid mistake.

In a second, Robin – or rather Hob, because now that was obvious – was knocked to the ground. The force from behind us plowed me into Josh, but he had it worse. While I knew how to fall, even with a sword being ripped out from between my ribs, Josh wasn't used to a big brother tossing you every which way just so you knew how to tumble with the least amount of bruises incurred. The huntsman's head slammed into the small kitchen table and he was out for the count with me gushing blood on top of him.

I shoved off of him, rolled over onto my knees where I had more space. Unfortunately, that move smeared red all over the carpet. Not the first time, but I still felt bad for ruining Promise's classy decor. It took me a second to lift my head, let alone my body, but I had some help with the second action. Niko nudged his shoe under me like a soccer ball, the top of his foot elevating at my hip so I could press my toes to the ground and get up without crushing Josh.

My hand automatically went to where my gun usually rested against my side, but the shoulder holster was missing, as was my weapon of choice. I'd been too relaxed, thought too highly of myself in this sanctuary. But pucks were known for desecrating any sanctuary they could get their fur chaps and lutes into.

"Cal!" Nik snapped, demanding an assessment without turning.

"M'good. Get George!" I commanded in retort. I had no idea if I was good or not, but considering I hadn't retched or passed out, I was doing better than some of those in the room. Hob would be after Niko eventually, but right then the asshole was staring, quite shocked, up at a very irate, scarlet-eyed, female half-Auphe. He grimaced at her talons lodged into his sides. She perched on top of him in a move similar to Dante's with that meat-head Wolf the other day. Didn't need to know where he'd learned that anymore.

By the look on the puck's face, green eyes identical to the friend we mistook him for, he'd made a mistake too. The fact that Cassie had gotten him on the ground, via hurdling over the kitchen island, and subdued for the moment, made it clear that he though her a peri. He had probably been on guard for a flaming sword, but not the pounce of a lioness. Now he knew he'd just stabbed a female Auphe's mate, which was pretty high on that fucked over list.

He managed to kick her off of him and scurry into a crouch. Cassie did the same.

"Look at this," Hob whispered out a little breathless, though he did a good job of covering up his surprise. "The freak found himself a girlfriend. I was wondering how the little blackbird came to be."

"I will murder you. Just try that again," Castiella responded.

There was a blur of movement, a waft of air scented with wildflowers and forest musk heavy in the current. Like moths battling for the same firelight, they collided and bounced back from each other. Hob went back into a crouch, one leg extended behind him to rough up the carpet under his shoe. Cassie ricocheted off of one of the barstools, her light landing allowed her to flip back around to touch down in front of me and Josh. The barstool clattered to the ceramic tile a second after.

She lurched forward, only pulling short when the poniard struck forward in a manner that would have skewered neck her should she have kept going. "Now, now, princess. I didn't come here for you."

"You came here to hurt my family; I've become your problem."

"Josh!" George's cry distracted for a moment. Niko had caught her around her tiny waist before little red could rush to the huntsman's side. He was safe enough behind me, behind Cassie, but love blinded you when it came to rational thinking even for one privy to the future.

Hob's fox-in-the-henhouse eyes fixed on her. He gave that big bad wolf smile, but made no move over to the prized seer. Typical puck, he wanted to have a nice chat first. Either that or he was a little scared by Cassie's presence. "Afternoon, _agnum_. I'm glad to see you made it to your destination without incident."

Cassie checked herself before George had come in. Sensing the human's approach with Niko, she retracted her Auphe talons and dulled her red eyes to their usual brownish hue. It was something Hob would be eager to notice. Something he would try to use against us, but right now I didn't care if George knew about Cassie's lineage or that she was pregnant. Right now, I just wanted this motherfucker out of our house.

Hob didn't have such intention though. He brought the poniard up before his face to rove his eyes down the thick coat of red that spanned nearly the entire length of the long dagger. With a quick hooding of his eyes, they then flickered behind Cassie to me. "I see the freak has evolved. I supposed I can call you Aupheling now, not that your skills of deduction have improved."

I held a hand to my chest where he'd run me through. The blood was still gurgling out of a half-formed clot, but it was still pumping properly through my veins so I counted that as a win considering how oblivious I had been. _We_ had been. Cassie had kissed him on the cheek. Niko had let him stand behind me armed. I _bared_ my back to him!

Pucks were identical, but that deception was more a testament to his acting skills. His mannerisms, his tone, his expressions, they differed from puck to puck even if the body and features mirrored like a carbon copy –which was generally what they were. He mimicked Robin just enough that we felt, I felt, it okay to ignore him like I usually did.

"This is just perfect. All the little ducks in a row. The planets aligning."

"You remember how this worked out last time, Hob," I snarled. There was a sharp, soft whistle in the air and I reached out to catch the Glock Niko tossed my way. It wasn't my Desert Eagle pre-loaded with explosive rounds, but the black matte 9 mm was good enough. Niko had a matching one of his own, keeping a distance away from the threat to protect Georgina still tucked under his arm.

Not only that, but Promise was looking mighty badass holding a Smith & Wesson 645 revolver in each hand as she stood in front of both her lover and our friend. We were usually a family of more varied weaponry; crossbows, swords, knives, grenades, and even a flamethrower once. Hob was some sort of special to get this arsenal. Hell, I hadn't even know Promise owned those shiny guns, but with as long as she lived I imagined she knew her way around them and had them tucked away in some sort of sexy garter holster on her thigh…maybe that was just my imagination though.

"It never ceases to amaze me how much the humans have bled into the minds of you hell spawn," Hob mused. He flicked the end of his thin blade with the nail of his thumb. A little spray of my blood dotted over his face. When he smiled it seemed more like war paint that he was proud to display. "The cardinal sins, I imagine, you cling to and lap up like a man drinking sand in the desert, but this incessant need for family, this _togetherness _that you display like an after-school special…it's disturbing. I recently had the disgusted honor of meeting a small murder of orphans with a particular pallid patina to their skin. Lank hair, eyes as red as the bloodlust reflected in them, donned with metal fangs of a viper. Are they your misguided doing? Failures before the curious little blackbird? His name is Dante, yes?"

Cassie's hackles went up. Her wings flickered into existence and partially blocked my view. With so many guns aimed it wouldn't be a problem. My girl would forgive a stray bullet through her wings if it meant protecting our son from this sick fuck.

"Not mine," I offered. I wanted no part of those experiments of Grimm's. The bae could remain orphans. Although it was interesting to know they were abandoned, Grimm really was in the Vigil clutches. That didn't bode well at all.

"Interesting. Perhaps they will be of use after all."

"Not really. We've torn through them several times before without breaking a sweat." _Useless, those defective creatures. Useless and pointless._

"Still, I have plans," Hob grinned. His mossy green eyes flickered over to where Niko and George stood in the threshold between the separated sections of the penthouse. "I will be borrowing your brother again, but this time…I believe I won't leave the loose ends untied before the ritual." His sly gaze returned to me, threatening my demise and relishing the thought.

"Try me," I challenged. "I'll drag you back down to Tumulus in an instant. I've had practice now. Lots of it."

Cassie shifted in front of me as I peeled open a gate behind him. Her wings vanished to give me a better vantage point. Between the two of us we could chuck him in there without the danger of tumbling in ourselves. My friends wouldn't have to yank me back out in the last second this time. Hob had to know this, faced with two half-Auphe. One of which had a couple thousand years more experience than the last one he faced. He didn't know she had that anti-gate mod on her neck. If he did, then he wouldn't have been surprised by her attack. So why was he grinning with such vigor.

"I'm counting on it, freak."

"Cal!" Cassie cried out, but I caught it before the sound emerged from her lips. There was movement on the other side of the gate, the undulation of white bodies scampering to get to the gaping maw of pulsing gray and singed black that led into our world. I bared my teeth in a cringe and snapped the gate closed.

That bastard! The enemy of my enemy was no longer that. Hob had aligned with the Auphe. Told them I would open a gate to let them in, made sure I did it on my front door and they were waiting. It was the same place I'd tossed him in before. Gates were better when you knew where they ended. It was dangerous and difficult to pop into an unknown place lest you end up partially imbedded in a wall or a rock. I didn't know how Hob knew this, maybe the Auphe told him, maybe Dante had during those little secret meeting of theirs or when he was bouncing a baton against the bars of Dante's Auphe cage, but he knew I would open the gate around the area I tossed him, around the area I escaped that hell so many years before.

The Auphe didn't open a new gate, they didn't pile in like women through the doors of a limited-time shoe sale. They would have if I left it open, but they were still playing. It was a taunt and a warning. Hob was showing me a card in his hand and asking me what my wager was.

"I'm not going to kill you. Not unless inspiration hits me," he said. "I'd much rather watch as your forefathers tear you apart. They are just as displeased with you, you know? All the rascally trouble you've caused." He chuckled and swiped the poniard at Cassie quicker than any of us could pull the trigger. I hadn't notice she was making a move for him, but it failed and his blade rested at the hollow of her throat. He would pierce her neck before any bullet could stop him.

I couldn't gate him to Tumulus, but that wasn't the only place I knew.

"They won't kill you," he said to Castiella. "But they want you all the same. Why is that, do you think?"

A shot rang out, Hob pin-wheeled as it sunk into his chest. He hadn't dodge, not enough. If pucks held their hearts where humans did that bullet just missed it, angled up to spray blood over the ceiling as the bullet imbedded in the threshold of the front door. I split the air again, stepped forward and planted my boot into his gut. He tumbled right into the gate's mouth, but not before grabbing a hank of my hair to take me with him. Someone grabbed my arm, another hacked an inch off my black mop to free me. Hob went spiraling down into a lake outside of Du Bois, sixteen stories above the water, and I flopped back on my ass. My elbow dug into Josh's thigh and my legs sprawled over Cassie's chest.

I caught the acrid scent of gunpowder and metal of a gun just fired and craned my neck back to see hazel eyes peering sharply through a cringe back at me. Josh had his Berretta in hand, unapologetic. The only one in the room willing to risk Cassie's life for a kill. I punched him in the face.

Cassie pushed my legs off of her and crawled up to drag me off of my new mark. I was screaming at him as he held his bloody nose with the fingers peeking out of his dingy cast. There was blood dried on his forehead too where he'd hit the table going down. I don't remember what I'd been saying, but whatever it was it had him wide-eyed and scooting back with weapon raised so I doubted it was in English. Auphe had a tendency to make people wet their pants by just the sight or smell of them and their vicious language that sounded like shattered glass over metal and flesh simultaneously often had the same reaction.

"Cali, Cal," Cassie called to me. She took my head between her hands and kissed my temple. "I'm fine. Calm down. We're all fine."

"Hob could have killed you," I snarled.

"You wouldn't have let him. Besides Leandros' don't die, they just go to hell and regroup."

I joke calmed me, slightly. I rested my head to her shoulder for a moment, lifted it to assess the shallow puncture on her throat, then surveyed the room for any other injuries. We were all in one piece and Hob was gone. The air around the gate still felt as if static clung to it, but the tear was closed.

"Castiella, are you alright?" Josh asked with his nose still pinched. George knelt beside him now, holding a napkin over his face to sop up the blood.

Cassie nodded. "I am. It was good teamwork and a damned good shot." Then she ripped my shirt open. I frowned down at another black tee I'd just broken in ruined. Cassie looked just as irritated. "Nik, get the kit. Might as well stitch him up, because this isn't going to kill him."

I chuckled at that one, pressing forward and giving her a kiss. I grazed my thumb over the jab on her sternum. The little bead of blood there painted over the bone with the motion, but it wasn't much more than a half inch into her flesh. Like a paper cut to her.

Cassie wrapped her fingers around my fist, pressing my thumb against the others and kissing my knuckles. She lifted from my side as Niko took her place, but the determined look in those eyes made me follow her movement instead of my brothers.

"I'm going to find Robin," Cassie announced. She grabbed my leather jacket as she moved for the front door. "Get him tattooed or dye his hair or something. As much as puck's love birthday suit exposure, I doubt our company would be keen to his dropping-trou every time I need to check if it's him."

"What?" I lurched toward her with that exclamation. The fact that she knew his dick well enough to identify him with it was filed in the back of my brain for later discussion, but right now I needed to stop her from walking out the door. Niko wrestled me back to the ground, still in mid-check up.

"You're not leaving right now!" Niko held me in place, but a gate would drop me in front of Castiella in a heartbeat. I could keep her from leaving and she knew it.

That didn't stop her from rolling her eyes at me. "Where did you send Hob? Down the street?" She asked indignantly and with confidence that the gate was farther than that. Hob wouldn't be back for an hour even if he managed to get a private jet.

"Grimm," I countered firmly. The huntsman and little red shot shocked looks of recognition toward me then each other. I watched the comical display from the corner of my eye, but made note of it too. Hob wasn't the only big bad wolf Georgina knew. That was not something I'd counted on or _ever_ wanted. How were they finding her without the target on my back beside her? "Hob is hopefully face-down in a lake two hundred miles from here, but Grimm—"

"If the bae are unattended he isn't here," Cassie growled. Still stressed from the attack her wings flickered with gray distortion on her back. Embers of gold caught in her eyes. "I'm not condemning my best friend every time he walks through the door. Finding him now is the best way to confirm he's our Robin. I'll just rip off Grimm's other testicle if he intercedes."

I snarled as a demand for her stay in, protected. Now wasn't the time. Just as much as it wasn't the time for me to clock Josh and show him what skills I harbored for his reckless shooting, it also wasn't the time for my girlfriend to stamp her foot down and proclaim she could take care of herself like I did when I was eight and complaining that Niko didn't have to miss his last class to walk me home.

Soundlessly, Promise appeared at Cassie's side. There was only the whisper of fabric as the vampire slung a cloak of rich greens around her shoulders. Mid-afternoon sun was dangerous for her to stroll around in, but she shared the same sentiment that I did. Castiella shouldn't be alone and George and Niko needed to stay with me.

Promise gave Niko and me a curt nod as she tucked her coil of mink brown ringlets under the hood. "We'll return in an hour."

We were back to that ever-irritating decision of letting our women fend for themselves, as they had been doing long before we were around though we were begrudged to admit such. And if we didn't both want a boot to the couch tonight Nik and I had to comply.

"Be careful," Niko said. "Check back if it's longer than an hour."

As they left, Josh's hazel eyes finished their slow pan over to me. There was still blood speckled over his upper lip as George continued dabbing it away with the napkin. "Did she really…rip off Grimm's testicle?"

"Yeah." I felt my jaw tighten, could barely get the words out through the venom burning my tongue with memories of why. "She gets a little crazy when someone tries to rape her."

Josh's taut features loosened in a slack-jawed manner at that confession. George looked just as startled. I was glad to not see that rueful expression that always meant she's already known, already looked. That was one scene – a hundred scenes – I never wanted her to see. My own imagination did enough damage to myself.

I brushed Nik's prodding hands away and stood from the stained carpet in the silence that fell. Big brother eyed me with displeasure. "Where are you going?"

"To call Dante. Hob knows about him and he promises not to be running off like this any more. And to make up the guest room," I answered. I used my torn shirt to scrub off some of the blood on my chest and stared at the front door for a moment. "Separation isn't an option anymore."


	13. Chapter Twelve - Cal

CHAPTER TWELVE

CAL

There were only a few times that Niko made any noise or spoke any word that he hadn't thought about for several seconds, sometimes thought about for several days. So the little grunt he made with his nose pressed to his phone was a little distracting for me even if George was in the middle of a rant about my current least favorite human.

I had to emphasize the human part, because while I knew a lot of paien that were on my shit list there were only a few humans and Joshua Dent was one of them. Granted those paien were a lot higher up on that list than the tantrum-throwing huntsman. Still, listening to George harp on her fiancé the way she used to gripe at me for my stubborn nature and attitude was amusing as hell.

We were sitting around a rounded-edged square table at a restaurant I would usually not be caught dead in, if only for the foul smell of boiled tofu and blended wheat grass. Obviously, not my first choice in lunchtime dinning locale, but three to one brought us here to Mindy's off Chelsea and Ninth and it was probably the last place Hob would look for a meat-eater like me so I didn't complain…much.

Cassie declined her invitation flat out, saying the bread they were constantly baking –some artisan crap that vegan's raved about – made her want to simultaneously vomit and poke someone's eye out with a yeasty fork. I let that go too.

Hob made it clear what he wanted Cassie for: a gift to the Auphe and one I was confident he wouldn't offer until he got what _he_ wanted. Namely me dead, Nik bleeding, and George's gift bequeathed onto him in that order. Dante was another story. He had to come with me. I didn't trust Hob to wait till the end to toss my son to the Auphe. That psychotic puck would see Dante as a down payment, while Cassie was the closing costs. Not that Dante was too upset about this other than leaving his mommy for an hour or two; he loved Mindy's and its bean sprouts and feta cheeses and geh, blah, gag wraps.

It was Josh that kicked up the most fuss. He wanted George to stay in, with him, like a princess trapped in a tower. I'd learned from Castiella (and to some extent from Promise) that women didn't appreciate that treatment outside of a Stockholm Syndrome romance novel. I couldn't have planned the scene better if I tried. When I defended George's understandable annoyance it set the huntsman off on a tirade, effectively exiling him and his childish crying from our outing and causing George to turn off her phone after texting him to stop being a douchebag and grow a pair.

Okay, maybe it wasn't as colorful, but her current venting was lowering the bar on the pedestal of innocence I usually placed Georgie Porgie on significantly. I wasn't used to curses flowing from her mouth in such a conversationalist manner, which was probably why I was so enthralled that Nik had gone unnoticed until the grunt of amused interest reached my ears from across the table.

George's comment about Josh's chest-pounding habits died on her lips when my attention shifted to my brother. She knew us well enough that when the Leandros brothers' eyes met it was significant and usually trouble. Niko shook his head though to dismiss the tension, then handed me his phone with a picture already in view on the screen.

"He did it," Niko said with a smidge of surprise to his tone. "I have to say I didn't think he would."

He, I surmised from the sparkling green eyes peering from around a newly inked wrist, was Goodfellow. And color me shocked, I hadn't thought he would take to Cassie's suggestion of a tattoo identifier either. There it was in tasteful shades of black and gray, a curving feather on the underside of his wrist, just below the heel of his palm.

"A feather," I stated with a questioning ring to my voice. I passed the phone to Dante, who had been silently captivated by George and my previous conversation as he ate his rabbit food. Man, I was going to get a chilidog on the way home, one with extra onions just to spite Niko. Maybe I'd grab one for Cassie too, she could appreciate the delicacy that was overly-processed mystery meat same as me.

"For his lover?" George asked as she took her turn memorizing our only means to tell one puck from the friendly other.

Niko was trying not to smirk, but his gray eyes still flickered to me for a brief instant. "Partially for Ishiah, I'm sure, but Robin isn't one to brand himself for a lover. No matter how successful this monogamous relationship may be." His grin broke out a tiny bit more. The same way it did when he knew I was going to be perturbed by something that only amused him. "But if you look closely at the curls of the base, I believe it is in honor of someone else."

I snatched the cell back into my possession and expanded the area Nik sited on the picture. Sure enough, I could see it on the curving side of the quill. A subtle 'c', 'a', and 's'. "So he won't brand himself for his lover, but he gladly does it for _mine_? He does this shit to piss me off!"

"As it is so difficult to get a rise out of you, little brother." Niko reclaimed his phone before I could finish my nasty text message back to the horny monogamous lecher. "There is hardly any sport in making a baby cry as they do it everyday regardless."

"Screw you, Cyrano."

George snickered at my expense, but I watched it sober rapidly as she crumpled her napkin and dropped it onto her finished plate. Considering the stress she was under a little discomfort was natural, but I knew George and I doubted she'd changed so much from her old self that she'd lost all of her previous unflappable and whimsical expectations that whatever happen would happen. In this situation with Hob, just as the former kidnapping, I imagined her to be outwardly relaxed even if she held some concern for the people around her. Fidgeting was a sign of something more. "What's up, Georgie? You look and see some graves in our future?"

"Wh-no," George exclaimed. Her soft features twisted into sadness, her mouth curling down like she was about to cry. "I haven't looked at all. I can't, you know that."

"Then what's with the white knuckles?"

She glanced down at her hands, bit her lip, then placed them flat on the table. "Cal, I never have lied to you before. There have been things I'd refrained from telling you, but it always involved my gift and it was always things that would depreciate your intended experience."

"But?"

"This doesn't feel the same. This just feels like I'm lying to you," she finished up after a significant pause. Her fingers wrapped around her cup of iced tea, took a sip, then went on without Nik or I having to press the issue. "I know you don't trust the Vigil. I've heard things from Uncle Samuel and saw things myself that make me question the sincerity of the Manhattan Chapter. I know they did horrible things to you and your family, but not all of the chapters are like that. Many of the chapters are more like law enforcement for paien, just like police and prisons are to humans. It's needed to some extent—"

"George, what are you getting at? What have you been lying about?"

"Josh is training under the Boston Chapter of the Vigil. He's an apprentice."

I felt ice run down my spine. I sprung up from the table with Dante's eyes glued onto me and his legs tensing to do the same. Niko was the one that grabbed my sleeve and tugged me back down into my seat. "Nik, we left him with Cassie! He's alone in that penthouse with the very creature the Vigil is hunting for! Why did you let Promise go to that charity today?"

"Cal," Niko chided for the last words, or maybe all of them. He had no say in what his lover did. She had an alias to uphold among the humans, one that made her seem like a normal rich woman with tastes in older rich men. My brother was the exception and I was usually fine with that and her double life. I'd just disliked leaving Castiella alone in the penthouse to begin with, having that asshole huntsman with her caused my jaw to twinge without knowing he was a lying sack of shit.

"He won't hurt her," George claimed with a wave of her hands in front of her. "Please believe me. Josh joined the Vigil to protect me, to protect the humans. You have to admit the Vigil has done some good things."

"They've gone to some extremes," Niko countered before I could start ranting. His arm was still stretched across the table, resting his hand over my bicep. "Perhaps when we first arrived in New York their deeds were good. Shielding the humans from the nature of the paien. But over the years it seems to have become less about protecting the humans and more about defeating the paien."

George shook her head. "It isn't like that everywhere. Some of the chapters, _most_ of the chapters haven't twisted their mission like the Manhattan Chapter. I was talking with Josh about it. The things you've told us, they make him just as sick as you. He's already started considering exposing the…experiments executed in those facilities."

"Why did you keep this from us?" Niko questioned.

George's lips pressed together, her brown eyes flickering to the table. "Josh kept it from his supervisors too. He knew if he told the Boston Chapter that we were coming here to seek aide from you they would prohibit him from doing so. He wanted desperately to stay by my stubborn side and risked his profession for that. Even if there isn't much said about you, they make it clear that you're dangerous."

She went for her drink again, as if every word was sapping her mouth dry. "When he found out that both Dante and Castiella were alive he…well, he freaked out a little. You're all wanted fugitives. Maybe the Manhattan Chapter knows Cassie is alive since they were the ones to shoot her, but they didn't advertise that knowledge. And Dante was thought to have died last year…as a toddler. Meeting them though, your wonderful family, he sealed his mouth shut. He won't tell them about Dante or Castiella."

"Because that makes this all better," I grumbled.

"He abandoned his responsibilities to the Vigil the moment we left Boston. He never had any intention to incriminate you or anyone else in your home, Cal. No matter what he saw."

I pushed my plate away. I'd picked through the wrap as best I could eating only the pieces of pita doused with the garlic spread and managing to choke down that weird imitation jerky they were trying to call bacon. "A guy like that doesn't abandon his responsibilities. He suffers through like a Catholic until the guilt eats deep enough and then he vomits all that guarded information up. I can't believe you let him come with you. Knowing our situation!"

"That's unfair," George pouted. "You would never separate from Niko and I would never ask you to."

"Nik doesn't lie to you about the efficiency with which he could kill you," I snapped.

"Josh would never attack you!"

I leaned back in my chair, laughing at that declaration.

"Josh would never attack you seriously just because of your genetics and rumors. And it isn't as if you haven't lied about anything since we've arrived!" Georgina argued, showing that sass that I wasn't used to seeing. I attributed that to her living with a guy, any guy would do it, but Josh and his overly-protective, high-tension hunter ways would bring sass out of a saint.

"You're the ones interrupting our lives—"

There was a quick slap to the side of my head. Since Niko was across from me getting the back of my skull would have been a feat. Even so I hadn't seen his hand move before it disappeared back into his lap.

I rolled my jaw and crossed my arms over my chest. This wasn't exactly as if George and Josh were dumping something new into our laps. This was a reprise and one that wasn't George's fault to begin with. Hob wanted her gift, something she was born with even if she never asked for it, while he wanted me dead and Niko sacrificed because I was an ass that nearly killed him and Niko was related to an ass.

"Cassie's pregnant again." The words came out a soft whisper considering our public location, but it was enough for Georgina to hear. I trusted her. When she saw me with Cassie in her visions she had to have sensed or saw what Cassie was and she certainly hadn't told Josh. That idiot still thought my girlfriend was a peri with some insane tastes in lovers. If I asked Georgina not to, she would never breathe a word of Cassie's pregnancy to anyone. She would guard it as faithfully as those visions she refused to speak of or those she refused to look for.

"It was the Vigil," I went on, watching George's amber skin paling and her brown eyes widen as they fixed on me. "Again. Dante was conceived due to omission and personal violation, but Connor's conception was far worse. They used my frozen sperm without consent. They inserted it into my drugged and helpless girlfriend without consent. It's even worse than that, but I'd rather not get into the details."

"I'm sorry," George offered with sincerity. "I was wondering if she was sick. She's apart from you more than she has wanted to be, but I didn't expect this. She isn't very far along is she?"

"She doesn't show it, but she's almost seven months."

"It's another boy? Connor?" she asked with a smile that seemed to shine inwardly. I nodded. Her eyes panned over to Dante, that soft expression only glowing more. "Then let's figure out how to get your family back to those peaceful days."

My mouth twitched into an almost smile, enticed into a calmer mood by the sudden surge of essence and honey-cinnamon scent she gave off. "I've never lived a peaceful day in my life, but that's a sweet sentiment."

"Hob is not impermeable," Niko said, diving right in when George gave him the opening. "We know pucks are only immortal regarding their longevity. We have had a few close calls with Robin, so we know a well placed bullet could kill Hob, it's the effort of landing that bullet will be the problem."

"You've fought him before," Dante chimed in. It was a more a question than a statement and it was almost amusing that he decided to join in when action was brought up. As much as he different from our unseemly relatives he still liked a little high-adrenaline violence, but I was also certain it had a lot to do with him wishing to be done with the chaos so he could protect his mother and unborn brother from the mundane.

"We have. I'm ire to admit he is a better swordsman than I am," Niko explained. "He bested Goodfellow as well, though Goodfellow was injured at the time."

We had quite a few scars piled up to attest to that statement. I shifted in my chair with a hand to my chest, feeling one of those wounds much more clearly than those obtained year ago. On the plus side, I got to test out Nero's super-healing salve and it worked brilliantly. The interior was still gamely knitting together with the help of my Auphe genes, hence my continuing discomfort, but the muscle and skin closest to the surface was sealed neatly with barely a mar to show what that puck imposter had done. That didn't erase the knowledge that our days of R&R were definitely over. Niko was still internally beating himself up over the fact that I'd been skewered on his watch, I could tell from just his tone. For Hob, though, that had been a love tap.

"He's fast," I added, "But not as fast as a gate and if taken by surprise not as fast as a bullet. I think keeping everyone armed with firepower is the best plan. He didn't just hesitate to tease us last night. He was leery about the five guns aimed at him."

"Than we will stick to that," Dante murmured. His hand unconsciously adjusted the gun holster under his arm, just like his daddy.

I'd found out that Dante was absent from that mess yesterday, because he'd been off visiting my supplier at Rapture. It wasn't something he usually did on his own –her overt affection made him uncomfortable like an abused kitten. Still feeling guilty for aiding our foe unwittingly, he came home with a few presents for me and a new toy for himself: a shiny new 9 mm and couple boxes of explosive rounds to restock my cache. Dante was willing to play with Hob about as much as me, which was about the opposite of interested; neither of us liked this game. Dead was better than tortured in this instance.

He carried the gun with him under a borrowed jacket that fell to his hips. The coat was mine, still a little large on him, but at the rate he was growing he would fill it out next month. I knew he didn't like firearms; he felt his gates and wings were a better weapon. I knew he was carrying to appease my need to see him armed to the teeth. That he bought a 9mm called a 'baby' Desert Eagle was probably due to my love for my Eagle and the fact that I'd jokingly told him that was going to be his birthday present when I saw it in a Guns & Ammo magazine.

Now I was going to have to find him another present. Maybe some porn, he was turning sixteen after all.

"Is it possible," George started to say in almost a whisper. She twirled her straw around in her drink, the ice rolled softly inside the opaque cup. "To send Cassie away with Robin? I know you said the Hob defeated Robin injured, but I think Hob would leave Cassie alone if she was away and Robin could provide the protection needed if the Vigil found them."

I smiled, genuinely, and patted George's hand that was still resting on the table. Knowing Cassie was pregnant changed things for her too. My girlfriend hated being treated differently, or more accurately she loathed being coddled, but any person would hesitate putting an expectant mother in an inevitably dangerous situation. George, even knowing Cassie was paien, thought no differently.

"Georgie, I love Cassie, but that girl never leaves when I ask her to."

"The Leandros family fights together," Dante recited. I nodded, but decided not to mention that stubborn notion was how my little son was taken by the Auphe. I reached over and ruffled my hand over his short hair.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I reached for it, happy for the distraction from dark memories. My grin only widened when I saw it was Cassie. "Hey love, getting bored yet?"

"Caliban."

My shoulders tensed in immediate irritation and I gripped the phone tight enough that the edges dug into my palms. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was harassing his own fiancé like a pre-schooler whose favorite toy got taken away, but now he was bothering _my _girlfriend. "Dent, I highly doubt Cassie would give you her phone to continue your pitiful, jealous, whining. So fuck off, we'll be home soon."

"Cal—"

"No," I interrupted. "What the hell is your problem? She's fine. I'm not going to let anything happen to her and I'm not going to betray the _amazing_ angel that is currently napping in my bedroom. Plus we're in a _public restaurant_, no matter how hippie-tree-hugging-chic it might be! Get over yourself, you fucking putz. We'll get home when we're done."

"No, you get home now. Cal, listen to me—"

I hung up with a growl that lingered for a second in my throat and looked over at George. "You sure about him? 'Cause I think you can do much saner."

Georgina giggled. "Baby steps, Cal. He's a little saner than the last."

I threw my napkin at her for the insult, but couldn't argue.


	14. Chapter Thriteen - Josh

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JOSH

Anger was a volatile emotion that I succumbed to more often that I would like to admit. It created such a vivid tangible color behind my eyelids that logic and common sense become nothing more than a foggy film over a weakly whispering voice. Anger allowed men to achieve things usually outside of their wheelhouse of abilities but never with the aplomb and grace of those in control of themselves. More often though, anger just made you revert to an ineloquent child that had yet learn how to convey his feelings adequately.

My anger allowed my fiancé to leave my side at a most crucial point in her life, a time where there was so much danger surrounding that I should have never let such a fragile creature walk out the door. She was with Caliban (hence my popping neck veins) but even with that protection in place I should have never let my anger and jealousy insight my body to hike back to the hostel in childish rebellion.

I didn't stay there long. My rage, like many others, was short lived when not encouraged externally. Internal ranting and vicious pacing only fed the emotion for so long before I started pointing out aspect that didn't exactly favor my decision.

Sitting on the edge of a rented bed that we hadn't bothered cancelling even though Cal basically strong-armed us into staying at their lavish apartment, I tried to call George. She ignored the call, as was her right considering my behavior, but texted me a reply that proclaimed she would talk to me when they returned from their lunchtime pow-wow and at no sooner date. I had no right to complain about the 'time out' treatment when I acted no better than a pre-pubescent boy not getting his fair share of attention at a party that wasn't meant for him anyway. Caliban just seemed to bring that out in me. Probably because he found amusement in creating tension and torture. He certainly jumped at the chance to slash a blade at me yesterday even before Hob had shown his terrifyingly handsome face. Then after, he was just as quick to punch me in the nose, would have completely broken it if I hadn't dodged the full brunt of it. I shouldn't have been surprised when he went for my throat verbally the next day. Really, I shouldn't have.

My feet, that had previously taken me to a cab and into the hostel at a steady clip with a hint of clomping, returned me to the streets for a long trek back to Manhattan. Even if my pride wouldn't allow me to track down the restaurant they went to, I knew I needed to be closer to George physically even as she kept me at an emotional distance. If something were to happen she would call me; a lover's spat would never deter us when it really came down to it. I needed to be available for that situation not hiding out in the next region over.

Walking the streets proved to be the worst idea ever it seemed. I was found. Not by Hob, or worse yet Grimm, but by another set of individuals I was desperately attempting to avoid. I didn't realize it at first, or rather I didn't realize who was skirting the corners and trailing after me at a leisurely pace on the other side of the sidewalk. They looked like average guys out for a bro-stroll, but the longer they tailed the more suspicious I got. When my phone rang I visibly tensed, fished it out in hopes that George had come around, but realized from the code under the 'Blocked' number that I'd been made.

My jaw clenched. I had to resist the urge to glance back at the men following. The number was a private line similar to my own, the coding above was most definitely Vigil. I wet my lips and picked up. There was no use hiding now and I had no reservation that my stalkers weren't of the same breed.

"Dent," I answered in a tone that sounded more professional than my frustration should have allowed.

"Apprentice Dent: Boston Chapter," a cool voice responded. I rolled my eyes and stopped on the sidewalk. From the corner of my peripheral vision I could see the casually-clad men jest with each other as they proceeded over a crosswalk to come to my side of the street. I understood the need for ambiguity and anonymity, but sometimes guys like this one on the other line this just took the secrecy to that cloak and dagger level.

"Yeah, who am I speaking with?" I shot a glance back at my shadows to see how far they decided to encroach. They'd stopped for some hotdogs and a chat with a street vendor. Neither were currently on the phone, but I knew they'd called me in.

"I'm lead command on the Defense Division in this city. You can call me Commander Romero while you're visiting." He paused to let me take that in. He was commanding officer for the same division I trained for in Boston. He was warning that I wouldn't get a gold star if I crossed him. The more I saw of Caliban's family life, the more I heard in snippets of what the chapter here was up too, the less I cared about what this man would tell my commanding officer.

Over breakfast yesterday, I'd been told how Dante was born. The Vigil had taken a couple non-humans, hyper-aware of their lack of ability to have kids with very sound reasons not to want kids, and gave them that ability without consent or informing them. Dante was an oops; a partial Auphe oops which was a concept that even Caliban had been frightened of before their son surprised them all by being the most tranquil in the family, save for Niko. But that mistake wasn't considered one among the Vigil. Caliban didn't divulge my mentors' intentions, but I knew there had to be one…or sixty, and none of them were sane. My brain shifted directly to weapon of mass destruction, because that was where this chapter seemed to be heading in their overly-villainous demeanor, but I hoped that was the years of reading comic books as a teenager that brought about that plot twist.

At dinner the very same day, I got to hear about the menagerie of preternatural that the Vigil torched to contain Castiella and Cal their first time imprisoned. It was a tactic only to be used in the most horrifying of situations, a purge when hell was about to break through the sandbags. Two prisoners, who – from what I'd been told – hadn't really done anything so vile to be imprisoned in the first place, escaping didn't deserve such drastic measures. Shooting them down was a feasible reaction if they failed to submit, but as I'd observed Castiella and Caliban were not the fiends the Vigil recorded them to be. Cal was an asshole, but a cold-blooded killer he did not embody. There might have been a 'yet' tacked on the end, but until he crossed that line he should not have been in any Vigil prison, especially one that would experiment on a wood nymph!

The Manhattan Chapter was more rogue than half the preternatural criminals we imprisoned. Still it would do better for me to play nice with Commander Romero, if only to keep him from setting loose his dogs to cause more trouble.

"Why are you visiting, Apprentice Dent?"

"My fiancé has family here, as I told my commanding officer." Such wasn't a lie, in fact that _was_ what I'd told my commander, O'Rourke. Apprentices weren't banned from taking vacations; it was encouraged in order to keep up the normal human front. Not unlike the CIA, I suspected.

"Yet you aren't with her."

"I'm sorry. Did I miss something in the protocol for leave? I didn't realize this would be an issue. Commander O'Rourke gave me no indication my presence would be troubling to this branch." The two men listed away from the vendor and approached at a casual pace. Joking with each other like they were heading for a bar to catch the game.

"Manhattan can be dangerous for those who haven't completed their training," Commander Romero said. He had the slightest of Brooklyn accents that indicated he was born and bred here, which also meant he'd be highly devoted to the Vigil of his location to matter how unsanctioned their 'projects' might be. "Just make sure you keep an eye on that fiancé of yours and stay out of trouble. She's made some connections with hostiles before, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about considering how tense you are right now. Mind she doesn't retrace those misfortunate steps."

I didn't let his veiled threat affect me. He was implying he had eyes on me, but they weren't his own. The two shadows, who were now passing me, had most likely told him of my posture and the slight force in my steps from lingering rage and stress from our situation. Not only that, but this commander seemed incapable of speaking without that villainous tone. It sounded more like a movie script threat and I had difficulty taking him seriously. Granted that might have been more due to the fact that Hob proved to be a much worse adversary. I didn't even both hiding my panning gaze as it fixed on my tails. They likewise met my eyes and one even gave me one of those jerky chin lifts that was both to be conceived as a threat and a greeting. They passed without confrontation.

"We're just here for a little while. I'll make sure not to step on any toes." All I wanted was to get Hob to lose interest and wander off or, better yet, die, then I would be carting Georgina off to Boston as quickly as I could.

Commander Romero accepted my explanation and let me off the line shortly, but I wasn't naive enough to think that we were clear of their surveillance. It was a nuisance I didn't want and a great danger to the family of the guy I was trying to get to protect my love. Since I couldn't let them see where I was headed I hailed a cab to the East Village bided my time in several shops there, before taking two buses around the island. I waited until I was certain my shadows were gone before I returned to the penthouse on Broadway. The attendant at the front waved me through and even buzzed me up to their floor. Either I had an honest face or my battered physique put me on the same level as Caliban's other questionable associates.

I let it go and let myself in to the empty apartment. The silence that greeted me was unwelcomed. I'd expected them to be back by now and even more I expected Castiella to be up and about in one of her usual stir crazy moods. I hadn't surmised why the Aupheling's lover was under house arrest most of the time. My assumption was that they wished for her to remain incognito since the Vigil had no idea she lived, but that didn't take into account why Dante continually trailed after his father outside through this job and seeing them side by side made their connection pretty obvious. Although the Vigil would be searching for a child at least a decade younger, if they weren't just accepting that he was ashes on a warehouse floor.

But there was also the mention of Grimm and his previous intentions toward Castiella…It was understandable that Caliban would see to it that Grimm never see the little peri again. Whether or not he succeeded or how close he became to succeeding in his assault on Castiella, didn't matter. I wouldn't let her out of my sight if I were Caliban…not that such was saying much considering I'd abandoned my own lover when that bastard Grimm was about.

"Castiella?" I called, disliking the eerie echo surrounding me. I wasn't a seer or particularly 'open' as they said. My mind only expanded with instinct, but that didn't stop my ability to sense danger or when something just didn't feel right. She'd been home when they left, talking on the phone with their befriended puck. Castiella had watched my snarling match with Caliban, tried to talk me out of storming off, and as far as I knew had plans for a nap and not a town outing.

Then I heard the moan; delicate, muted, and laced with the pain of one laid up. I'd heard plenty of my fellow apprentices making a similar sound after reviving themselves from being slugged unconscious. I rushed to the source, giving no courtesy to the sanctum of Caliban's bedroom. The lithe form of his lover was half curled on the carpet just outside the lit bathroom. She was shivering in a slip of a night dress, eyelids half-mast, and dots of blood littering the hem of the fabric. There was a trail of them spotting a dragging progression from the bathroom. Hardly enough to cause alarm, but her crumpled form certainly added to my concern.

I dropped down next to her, rolling her against my knee to check over her front so I could determine where the blood was coming from. One hand supported her neck as I called to her, the thick metal under my palm wasn't steel-cold as I expected. It was warm, like an overheated laptop. It almost hummed against my skin. My other hand rested on her stomach, a generally neutral area on the female body that also lent to the ability to keep her steady in the position I wanted. Usually, it was neutral. But the moment my hand touched down I could feel the curve, a solid curve that wasn't oddly distributed weight gain. Weight gain didn't kick against unfamiliarity.

How had she managed to hide this? The expansion of her belly wasn't overly defined, taking into account what little I knew about pregnancy I wouldn't guess her little more than four months, the movement within maybe closer to six, but that was knowledge of human pregnancy. She'd been hiding it under loose fitting dresses and blouses, and I recalled that I usually saw her behind a counter or a couch when we were over like an actress masking her real life bundle with chest level shots and discretely placed props. She certainly pulled the wool over my eyes.

I didn't remove my hand from its resting place. Whatever was happening to Cassie was either affecting or due to the child within her. I needed to calm both of them down. "Hey, Cassie. I'm here. You're not alone." The blood was even more unnerving now. It was just a small amount, but any amount could be crucial when it came to the development of a child. "I'm going to get you to the bed, okay? Hold on."

She did. Coherent enough to loop her arms around my neck as I scooped her up. She was feather-light as I would assume any flight-bound animal would be, but that soothed none of my concerns for her pregnancy. There was no way Caliban didn't know. They were hiding it from us with good reason as we should not be privy to that private part of their lives without invitation, but the family had to know. I had to trust that they were seeing to her health. That she was eating properly and getting the nutrients and assistance that she needed. Peri children didn't swell inside the uterus as they did with humans; they laid eggs, but Castiella hadn't mated with another peri, what complications did that bring? A vampire, if mating with a human, produced a vampire, but those were similar gestations between the species. And how the hell did Auphe birth their offspring anyway? Would the fact that Caliban was only half-Auphe change things?

I laid her down on the tangled sheets. She rolled onto her side and I wrapped her up in a few layers to stop her from trembling with one hand while the other dialed up George's phone. It went to voicemail instantly. She turned it off! Did my tantrum really constitute such a brash move? We were in constant danger right now, in this city with the enemies we had. She should have _never_ turned off her phone! I shook my head and sent her a brief message telling her to come back to the penthouse, immediately. I didn't have Cal's number, only George's, but that idiot needed to be here. He should have never left.

Now I knew why Cassie was bound to the home. I knew why she took so many naps and how she packed away so much food while still looking as if she had no body fat at all. I brushed my hand over her brow, collecting some unruly locks of dark blond hair and freeing it from her porcelain face. She wasn't sweating, which I hoped was a good sign, and she didn't feel exceptionally warm with fever. "Where's your phone?"

"Bureau," she murmured back. I glanced behind me and saw that had been where she was crawling to. I left her side to snatch it up from the low set of drawers. "I don't know what happened. I just dropped. Like someone cut my strings."

"I'm calling Cal."

"Katherine," Cassie argued. She touched the wrist that was holding her phone. Her eyes, usually a vibrant reddish brown, were as murky as mud. "Call Katherine. A healer. Connor…he."

She was trying to shake off the effects of whatever had knocked her out. Her head didn't seem to be clear, but she wasn't fading back into unconsciousness. She was staying with me. Her hand clasped her stomach as if searching for a limb she'd thought she lost.

I pressed mine over hers. "The baby's kicking. That's good." I found Katherine under her list of contacts and did as I was told. Calling a healer sounded a lot more rational than her good-for-nothing-more-than-violence-and-crude-wit boyfriend.

Katherine came within ten minutes, buzzed up without a problem just as I had been. Caliban and his family could take care of themselves, but I was beginning to wonder how invested in their jobs the front desk was. Or maybe they had a deal with the Leandros'; don't ask questions and just let anyone up. While we waited those ten minutes I'd called Caliban. He answered carefree and casual, thinking I was his equally carefree and casual girlfriend. When I spoke he cut me off with a curse and a lecture about how I apparently thought he was going to violate my fiancé and betray his girlfriend in a public restaurant.

After a few more insults and curses I tried to cut in. "No, you get home now. Cal, listen to me—"

He hung up. I called again, but he ignored it. I texted him that he needed to come back to the penthouse, that it was important. No response. I didn't want to tell him that his amazing angel was possibly miscarrying his kid, –that wasn't something you sent over text message– but I was tempted and almost did when the healer walked in.

Katherine was a serene professional vampire. She didn't hide her lineage, but she neither did she hold back her gifts. Her bedside manner was strong and assuring. She calmed Cassie within a few minutes and had her slumbering as she ran her long fingers over the peris' exposed belly. I watched from the threshold of the bedroom, wishing to give them privacy, but feeling like a nervous husband in the waiting room.

"Where's Caliban?" Katherine asked curtly. Her long black hair was coiled up in a bun that said she hadn't been prepared to leave the house. The sun had set, but less than an hour ago. I didn't know where the vampire Promise had gone, since it hadn't been with her own lover to the restaurant, but Katherine obviously had not planned to be out until later. Vampires had a tendency to make appointments after sundown. The light wouldn't kill them with brief exposure, but it was simpler to just avoid it.

"He won't answer me," I told the healer. "He's currently out with his brother and my fiancé who happens to be his ex-girlfriend, so he thinks I'm insane enough to just be calling him five times because of jealousy."

"Then call Niko or Dante," she rationalized. She readjusted Cassie's dress and the sheets over the little peri's body, then stood from the bed. "It wasn't the baby. He's strong, just startled by whatever his happening to his mother."

"What's happening to his mother?"

Katherine shook her head, a hand lifting to run up the side of her sharp-featured face as a gesture of weariness. "I don't know. It's nothing natural, nothing internal." She motioned over Cassie's form absently. "If I were to guess? I'd be more apt to believe it is that device the Vigil implanted in her spine that is causing the issue. Though why she would attempt to gate, when she knows that limits her ability to so, is beyond me."

That onslaught of information almost had the phone fall from my hand. "Gate?"

The vampire's thin mouth pressed to almost disappear as she realized that was another secret she just revealed. She breezed by me on silent feet and touched my injured arm as she passed. I felt a tingling run down the limb and a strange grinding click in my wrist before I yanked away. "She is unlike them, I assure you. If you have been with her for more than an hour you would know that. Peri and Auphe, virtue and sin. It's balanced somehow, don't you think?"

"Wait, what do I do?" I called as she started to leave the apartment. "Aren't you going to talk to Cal?"

"I hate Cal. He's a rude, dense, puppy with a trigger finger that pulls faster than the speed of sound. Tell Dante to call me for information. Cassie is fine now, but they need to figure out what is going on with that collar." She paused at the front door and gave me a soft smile. "I have other appointments, some rather dire. She's a tough one. So is the little Aupheling inside her."

Another startling realization there. The baby was half. If Cassie and Cal were both half Auphe, genetics would give that baby an equal share with peri and human dashed in. So then Dante was half…but he was so…well, he was a little off and socially awkward, but that could be more attributed to his captivity with the Auphe and now that kidnapping made a bit more sense. Of course the Auphe would want another go at their science project! Even if they hadn't produced the offspring themselves, the legacy would be passed down and they would want it.

I shook my head and flipped through the contacts again, finding Dante's number. He loved his mother, almost obsessively, which meant he would be my best chance to get them home. Which would have been beneficial if his cell phone wasn't ringing shrilly in his room where he was decidedly not. I sighed and tried for the next one. Niko. The logical brother answered, albeit briskly. "Is this about Georgina?"

At least, he figured out my barrage of calls wasn't due to my own insecurities. "No. Come home. Now." It was all I said, more than a bit perturbed in this situation, but I knew it would be enough for Niko to wrap things up and return. Castiella seemed to be resting comfortably in their bed, so I waited in the open floor of the living space, leaned up against the kitchen island.

When the door open, I pushed off the granite countertop, stalked over to the group ushering in with expectant looked, and punched Cal across the jaw. It felt good and I didn't realize until much later that I'd hit him painlessly with a fisted cast.


	15. Chapter Fourteen - Cal

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CAL

I'd met a lot of crazy dudes in my lifetime. A few even tried to have a go at me because they saw my eyes trailing after their girlfriend, lover, wife's pert ass. But that was in bars, and none of them reached the level of insanely jealous as the huntsman when we came home.

I'd find out later how much of an oblivious idiot I was, but when he punched me all I knew was that he was pissed at me for keeping Georgina stitched to my side _for her own safety_, had been calling us non-stop like a whiny baby, and that he was about to die. Sorry, George, time to get a new fiancé.

The entryway was a burst of noise and motion all at once. I lunged at Josh, he screamed at me, George tried to pull me back and Niko had to snap the magazine out of my Desert Eagle before I pulled the trigger. I didn't, but if I had, that bullet loaded into the chamber would have been between his pretty hazel eyes.

It took a second for me to hear Josh over the rush of blood in my ears. Dante shoved us apart to take the shortest route to my bedroom; he got the message long before my brain remembered words and how to string them together with cognizance. "What?" I still needed it repeated.

"Something is wrong!" Josh shouted. "Something is wrong with your pregnant lover! You should have been here, _with her_. Not me. It shouldn't have been me finding her like that!"

"What happened?"

Josh clenched his casted fist –damn, that had hurt more than brass knuckles when he caught me with it. I could feel the burning across my cheek were the plaster had scraped. "I came back to find her curled up on the floor. I called your friend Katherine, she said Cassie will be alright. The baby is alright, but damnit Cal enough of this!" He glanced over at Georgina, shook his head, then pivoted in a short pace of three steps. "George is my fiancé. Castiella is the mother of your children. Can we please start being adults and accept this? And _don't_ try to claim you haven't been taunting me just to wind me up."

I didn't. I had been. It was fun. But now I'd neglected my lover. "Katherine said she would be alright?"

"Yeah, she said Dante could call her. She thinks it's the _anti-gating_ device on her spine."

I smirked, one side of my upper lip pulling back in a snarl. Katherine had said too much, but I had no hope of keeping this from them forever. George was watching the conversation with both hands up, as if combing her energy between us or maybe just anticipating pulling us apart again. "Well, I'm sorry you didn't dump Hob on our laps at a time when I could give it my full attention."

"But you have been! Or at least been giving George your full attention! Enough that your own girlfriend felt it better to keep this aliment to herself. How the hell can a peri-Auphe hybrid feasibly have children anyway?"

"Because of your asshole friends," I snapped back. I gripped the Eagle, but didn't raise it. "You've been keeping secrets too, Slick. You want to know what happened to her? Who drilled that inhibitor into her spine, pumped her full with hormones and sedatives so they could shove another fertilized egg up there? To have another half-Auphe kid they intended to steal from us and use as weapons? That was you guys. That was the fucking Vigil!"

Josh stepped back. I watched his features contort to emote shock like a man shot. Whether it was for his secret revealed or the realization he was backing some screwed up humans, I didn't care.

"Nik, handle this," I snapped and stomped into my room. He was right about my attention waning from Cassie; that had to stop tonight.

Leaving Niko to chat with Josh and George regarding Castiella's situation and where she came from was the best idea. It left more time to practically talk things over without me viciously tearing into the Vigil dick that have been lying in our midst this whole time. George probably told us while we were out so I didn't try to murder her fiancé for his secret. George assured us Josh was different, like her uncle, and that the other chapters weren't the same. Well, I didn't fucking care and I wouldn't care until he proved it was more than a lying, sack of human, power-hungry, shit.

When I entered the room I was relieved to find Cassie sitting up. Her legs, Indian-style, under the sheets with Dante perched facing her with one hand resting over her minimally swollen belly where his little brother was forming fingernails. They both shifted their attention to the door when I entered. Dante with his inquisitive puppy head tilt and his mother, on the other hand, looking more haggard than when she came back to me from the dead the first time thanks to Rafferty and his healing voodoo.

Her cherub-round face was paler than usual, marked with dark rings the color of Sophia-induced, bottle bruises under murky brown eyes. She was leaned back to let Dante commune with his brother, but I could tell she would much rather be slouched or flopped on her side and resting.

"Hey Champ," I said. "Could you give Katherine a call?"

Dante nodded and rose from the bed without question. He dotted a kiss to Castiella's cheek. I didn't have to tell him what to ask the vampire healer. He would know better than me, the way he'd been eating up Niko's old biology and anatomy books. Pretty soon he'd graduate to hands on lectures as Nik let him sew me up after battle. Because, I had to face it, we all knew it'd be me that needed it.

Dante probably knew I wanted to talk to his mother alone too. He wasn't a pro at understanding emotions and reading the room, but he was getting better –not that I was superb at the same. Once he was gone, I took up his place in front of Cas on our bed. I brushed a hand over her cheek.

"Nik managed to convince you to go to Mindy's after all, hm?" Cassie asked. She must have smelled the pita bread and wheat grass on my clothes.

"How many times has this happened?"

Cassie's neck elongated at the question. She started to shift forward into a slouch settling in for a lengthy talk, but I caught her shoulder and eased her down onto the bed. My hand was on her stomach same as Dante. The fact that she let me coddle her was more telling than anything she might have said or tried to disclaim. She was tired, on many levels, and she was scared.

"A few," she replied. The pillow fluffed up around her head, her dark blond hair cascading over the back. It was growing out a lot faster with all those chemical and vitamin cocktails the Vigil had been giving her months ago. It was beautiful, the notion that a little boy was stretching her belly was beautiful, but how we got here was gritty, wrong, and horrible.

When I lifted my eyebrows to demand a better approximation than 'a few', she sighed. "Three times since Connor, since I came home."

Since she came back to me, then…this time. Since the Vigil lost her.

"That night after the strixie job?"

She nodded. "The second time."

I thought about this for a bit as I adjusted the sheets around her shoulders. Katherine had told Josh it wasn't Cassie, it wasn't Connor. It was something beyond the internal organic workings of a mother and incubating child, which really only left the module on her neck or whatever hormones they Vigil had been pumping into her.

Niko had researched the information the Vigil had given to us while desperately pleading for us to find their runaway project before Grimm did. They failed to tell us Cassie had been sprung by the bae, that Grimm, no doubt, already had her. I wondered what they would do if they got Castiella back now, when Grimm was in their clutches –might be in their clutches. Would they continue to fiercely keep them separated or would they give her over to Grimm as a new pet? I wasn't willing to find out. Ever.

In his research though, Niko had found out the hormone supplements given to Cassie were similar if not the same as those given to human women trying to get pregnant. Maybe higher dosages, altered molecules, but it was safe enough for Castiella. Regardless, Katherine would have probably been able to snuff that out in her genetics as a red flag if any levels were heightened enough for her to lose consciousness.

I drifted a hand through her hair to pull it from the intricate combination of metal and flexible alloys that made up the anti-gating module trailing from the base of her skull to a few inches shy of her scapula. A few of those red brindled tendrils caught on the edges of the roughed corners. When she first appeared with the hunk of metal it had been shiny with rounded edges and a knitted mesh layer that resembled Kevlar bedded between the rings that sunk deeply into her flesh and between her vertebrae. We'd been through quite a bit since then and the module had been banged up and scarred just as much as more organic parts of her body.

I unwound the strains as carefully as I could, but some still snapped. I doubted Castiella cared; she had a ton of hair to begin with. Cassie tilted her face into the pillow to give me a better view of the contraption. Even the mesh blend was fraying a bit, the tube that had previously injected sedatives into her veins had long since been broken and removed, and the skin around the rings and other metal anchors had faded from abused red to healed scar-tissue white.

"How did you feel? When you passed out?" I asked, running my fingers over the curve of her spine around the mod. "Light-headed? Nauseous? Knees give out?"

"No, not at all," Cassie replied. Her hand weaseled out from under the sheets to wrap around my free one. She started absently playing with my fingers between hers. "It felt more like I tried to open a gate, but I didn't. A harsh shock and then I was swimming in fog as I woke up. I don't even know how long I was out."

I watched her ruddy brown eyes lift under thick lashes. I fiddled with the more delicate cogs and crevasses, but it was impossible for me to make heads or tails of it and Salamadier had yet to find detailed information about module. Or maybe he was just not looking, distracted by the more interesting aspects of the Vigil's network and projects. "I'm going to have Sal dig for blueprints on this."

"The results of this damned thing are similar to a tazer," Cassie murmured. She let of a little hum when I prodded at the muscles surrounding her spine. I smirked; that sound hadn't been pained. I trailed my fingers down around her shoulder blades. Goosebumps rose along her creamy skin. "It's possible they added a kill switch to it. Something that would drop me if things got out of hand. If I became immune to the sedatives or they missed a dose."

"Why are they using it now?"

"To find me?"

I frowned, leaned down, and kissed her shoulder. "You think they don't know I have you? You think they'd believe I'd just leave you to the wind and move on with my life without you? Knowing you were pregnant? Knowing Grimm was still out there?"

"Then to scare me into going back to them?"

I pressed my nose to her bare shoulder. Took in her irresistible scent and closed my eyes.

"I'm alright, Cal."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"You had your hands full. I felt I could handle this."

I groaned and pulled back, tilting my head to meet her eyes. There was a little of their usual spark in them again. She really needed to rest. "Just because George is here doesn't mean she trumps you by importance."

"I know that." She sighed and shifted to sit back up on the bed. Pushing her back down would only comfort me at this point, so I let her fluff up the pillow then clutch it to her front instead of behind her. Her thin night dress gaped at her ample cleavage and one strap slipped over her round shoulder, between that and her natural scent I had some trouble concentrating on her explanation. Too busy thinking bitterly how much Josh was right. He shouldn't have seen her like this. It should have been me, for my eyes only.

"George means a lot to you. It's beautiful and wonderful that she cares for you so much after years of separation." Cassie paused, gave a weary smile and touched her fingertips to my cheek, the one that wasn't still stinging like a mat burn from Josh's punch. "I'll admit to feeling some selfish jealousy, but mostly I know how much this meant to you, means to you, to be able to help her now. I didn't want to get in the way of that.

"As much as you shouldn't, as much as I wish me or Nik or anyone could erase that misplaced guilt, you blame yourself for Darkling. Helping George now, saving her, its cathartic for you. You need it."

My frown deepened as her little speech went on. It wasn't surprising she caught on to subliminal thoughts that I wasn't even aware of. She was Cassie, she was my queen, and she'd gone through so much hell in her life that she could understand mine better than I could.

The danger George had previously been in and presently was in…yeah, I guessed part of me blamed myself for all of that. Part of me also hoped that when she moved out of the state she would never have to deal with paien again, which was a stupid wish considering her gift would never allow that part of our world to be erased completely. Much like my guilt that I'd almost killed her when possessed by a male banshee hitchhiker that was attempting to destroy every aspect of my life in varying ways of blood and gore. Oh, and he was helping the Auphe try and end human existence.

I couldn't do anything to fix the past. My affection and attachment to George was one I didn't fully regret. But apparently there was still some cross-bearing there considering I'd neglected the female that stayed by my side, the one that I could share my darkness with without fear of desecrating her innocence, and the one that loved me without changing a single aspect…save for my habit of leaving a trail of dirty clothes in my wake.

"What happened here?" Cassie brushed her knuckles lightly over the scrapes on my cheek, when I didn't respond to her insight right away.

"Josh punched me with his cast," I replied. I tilted my chin down so she could inspect the abrasion. Her hand was a bit cooler than my skin. It felt good. "I think he likes you."

Castiella's full lips curved up slyly. "He's a good man. Not very dissimilar to you."

"He's Vigil," I countered, unable to hide the pull in my lip from my lingering anger.

Cassie paused in her stretch to get Nero's black tin from our nightstand. My cheek didn't need more than some ice, but Cassie couldn't stand seeing my scars piling up. Just as I had used some of the ointment on the three jagged slashes that had long since healed on her jaw leading to her breast. Those scars had faded considerably with the salve overnight, barely a ripple now, but the memory that she got those protecting Dante from the Auphe and losing her life for a couple of minutes would never fade. A punch from a bad-tempered human seemed pathetic in comparison.

Cassie leaned back to square off with me again. Her dark eyes searched mine slowly, one then the other. "Was this all a trick then?"

"I don't think so. George said he is acting as her fiancé in this situation and nothing more. You saw Hob, he's very real and very much wants us all dead, but…we might have to deal with Josh afterward. I just wanted you to know…I don't want you alone with him."

Cassie made a little sound that was almost a laugh. "I'm glad to see I'm not the only one with monopolizing tendencies."

I rolled my eyes. "It has nothing to do with jealousy. If he's Vigil he could alert them, coerce you out in the open where they could take you away from me. George suggested you leave with Robin. I think it's a good idea. Just until Hob is dead and that asshole goes back to Boston."

I expected an immediate response of 'no' and a lecture on how she was stronger and smarter than me, so she would be around to save my ass if Niko couldn't, but there was silence instead. Her hand went to her round stomach and her eyes to their sides. Considering it.

"It's a good idea," I repeated. "If you want, Dante can go too. Actually, it's better if he does."

"I won't leave the city," she said. Those mahogany eyes fixed one me with stern determination. She was agreeing to it, if only for the safety of the little bundle inside her, but she was agreeing and I waited to let her make up the terms and conditions. "And not with Robin, you need him here. He knows Hobs better than any of you considering the bastard is technically his dad."

"What?" I stumbled over that little tidbit. I knew Goodfellow was old, older than dirt and probably older than the freakin' dinosaurs, but I'd never really asked where he came from. Who he came from. During the Panic, he finally revealed how pucks were born. I blocked out most of the gratuitous details and preferred to just liken it to a flatworm splitting in half to make another. I'd never really thought about the original puck Goodfellow had split from. Even if I knew he was one of the oldest and that he had shown some semblance of fear (or maybe begrudging respect) toward Hob the first time we faced him. "Goodfellow came from Hob?"

"In the beginning Hob was fathering many," Cassie replied. "Of course, at this point I'm pretty sure Hob believes that was a vast mistake."

I shook my head, determining to talk to Robin about this later. "If not Goodfellow then who are you taking with you? I don't want you going alone."

"I'll ask my uncle. Ishiah will find a safe place for Dante and me until you dispatch Hob. Then I'm coming home. Hob and the Vigil are too much to worry about at once; I want you concentrating on that psychotic puck and only him. Once that is done, I can handle the Vigil. _We_ can handle the Vigil and it's about time we did."

It wasn't what I wanted, wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. It was better than her staying here, a sitting duck for the Vigil to bust in while I was out, flick that switch, and cart her off. "Okay."

There was a short series of knocks on the door. Niko only did that if it was closed and Dante hadn't bothered to give us that privacy when he left. I glanced up and saw Josh standing meekly in the doorway. I glared, daring him to take a step more.

"There isn't anything I can say that would allow you to trust me. I know this and I don't blame you," he said. His face was almost as pale as my natural color, highlighted with a tint of green. He rested one hand to the threshold as if to keep himself upright. Niko must have gone into great detail regarding what his previous cult had done. Everything we had told them over meals or in general company were fairytale version of what had actually happened. "I had no idea what the Manhattan Chapter was doing. The things…the experiments they've done are unsanctioned, wrong, and I _will_ report them to my superiors when I return."

I stood up from the bed, taking slow steps over to the human, giving him plenty of time to flee.

He didn't. _Stupid sheep._

"The other chapters aren't like that, Cal. We don't…we kill if nothing else can be done, imprison if the paien deserves another chance. We're only trying to keep the human race safe."

"Get out," I told him.

"I would," he said. "But I have a better idea."

"Out."

"Cal," Cassie called from the bed. I heard the rustle of fabric and then her hand rested along my taut arm – no footsteps, she was just there. "What did you have in mind, Josh?"

"They know I'm here, the Manhattan Chapter. I thought that they were following me because they didn't know if I was involved with you and wanted to make sure, but it might have just been monitoring those outside of the penthouse. I didn't lead them here, but…I think they knew you were alone. That's why they knocked you out. It's the device on your neck, right? It stops you from gating, but it's more than that." He paused, shifted on his feet, then leaned to the threshold again. His eyes were on the carpet. "They know where you are. They were waiting for you to be alone. I don't know why they didn't come to collect when I was here, unless they knew I would call Cal."

It made a frightening amount of sense. As I'd said to Cassie there was no way the Vigil wouldn't have realized she was home. They saw how relaxed I was; that wouldn't be the case if she was still missing. The night Dante and I came home and she was on the bathroom floor, she'd been alone. A failed attempt and their bad timing, just like today.

"We can use this," Josh said slowly. "You can use me. I play the double crosser. I tell them you're still here and that they should wait because Cal has a close watch on you. But you're not here, we get you out. Take you to that uncle or something."

"And why would you do that?" I snapped. "Why would you risk your fancy new career for a monster and his kin?"

"Because you're not a monster," Josh countered. "You're an asshole, but you're also a father, a brother…a lover and a friend. And she," he paused his hazel eyes almost reddening around the rims with contained tears as he looked at Cassie. "She's an angel. And even if she was anything but she still wouldn't deserve what they did to her."

I felt my burned skin stretch as I clenched my jaw. I slid my eyes to Cassie on my right. "I told you, he likes you."

Cassie's full lips curled into a delectably sly smirk. "I just find it cute he thinks I'm an angel."

The redness in Josh's eyes quickly redirected to his cheeks. He pulled his body up straight and held both hands in front of him. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just think it's reprehensible to imprison and assault a woman of any species like that. I know you're half-Auphe too, but you have proven to me this whole time that such has no bearing on your temperament or rationality."

"And this is _with_ pregnancy hormones," I added with a smirk of my own. She smacked my chest, not hard but right in the bull's eye of my stab wound. I grunted and wheezed out a groan like a deflating balloon.

"You have a good idea, Josh," Cassie offered, approaching the little Vigil boy, then guiding him out of the bedroom with her arm looped through his. "Let's sit down and flesh this out."

If they weren't heading into the living area where everyone else still was I would have felt the irrational jealousy she was obviously trying to dredge up in me. As it was, I still felt a little shiver of something akin to anger seeing her cozy up to the bastard that had been, and could still be if he was good enough an actor, lying to us since he showed up on our doorstep with a gun in my face.

"You better not be lying, huntsman," I hissed under my breath. One wrong step, one second that he put my lover or son or brother or anyone I loved in danger and he was dead. One gate, inside, and bam. The Vigil could clean their prodigal son off my front sidewalk.


	16. Chapter Fifteen - Cal

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CAL

There were a lot of things about Josh's plan that I didn't appreciate. I didn't even like the part I suggested, which was Cassie and Dante leaving, but the aspect that disturbed me the most was how absolutely stunning Castiella looked in a wig of mink brown waves and striking lavender contacts, because she also looked strikingly like my brother's girlfriend. That was the intention, but my feral attraction to that smoky eyed look she gave me was not the intention.

She knew too. By her brief but wicked smile, she most definitely knew.

I tried to give some distance between us as Promise – the real one, not the look-a-like – adjusted the straps of the sleek gown that fit Cassie like dark chocolate poured over her. Castiella had to wear four-inch heels to hit Promise's height, but she stood in them like they were molded for her. The same grace as Promise, the same elegance. Before Dante, Cas was too small in the chest area to even wear the vampire's bras, but two pregnancies later she was almost spilling out over the deeply scooping drape on the front of the dress. The back left even more pale skin bare for hungry eyes. I averted mine.

We had originally thought it better for Dante to gate Cassie to their destination. Unseen by anyone and safely tucked away in a second. In a perfect world that would have been perfect, but two things deterred us and ultimately had us give up no that idea. Firstly, the gate would hurt Cassie, mildly, but with what was happening with her module we weren't willing to risk a malfunction or a GPS trigger.

Secondly, Josh found out the Vigil had several teams monitoring the penthouse as of late when he went down the street to make the call to the Manhattan superior. Niko had followed from the shadows, pin-pointing all the recon posts and eavesdropping in on Josh's side of the conversation while giving me a play-by-play over his cell. When they came back Nik drew up a map and claimed sneaking Cassie out would be risky. That was when Promise suggested the doppelganger contest.

She had another charity ball tonight, of which she already decided to forgo in lieu of our current situation. But it was the perfect opportunity to camouflage my lover and have her _walk_ out of the penthouse without any interference from the Vigil. Plus it would imply to those idiots and possibly Hob too that were weren't even intimidated enough to cancel our party plans. Or Promise's party plans, at least.

Castiella would be driven to Ishiah via Promise's driver. Dante would gate to her side later and Promise and her revolvers would remain with my brother, which was fine by me. After that, we would all leave for dinner and The Vigil would see all of us leave. They would think Cassie was alone, or if they knew about Dante they would believe he was with her. What a surprise it would be when they broke the lock and two flash/bangs went off in an empty penthouse. I full planned to gate back to the penthouse if I saw them go off. Ruin Promise's carpet a little more and send these assholes a message. Of course, I didn't tell Cas or Niko about that part of my plan.

"You meet me there soon," Cassie was saying with a pointed finger in Dante's inquisitive face. He pushed her hand down and kissed her cheek.

"I'll be there shortly," he promised. He stepped aside as Promise draped a cloak of sapphire blue over Cassie's shoulders. The sun was still lingering in the sky and the drawn hood would help buy into our ruse as it hid Cassie's much more doll-like features.

I glanced out to the balcony where Josh was on the phone again. He was making a call to some Commander Romero again, made a show of glancing behind him to check if any of us 'saw him'. It was for whoever was watching only. He knew Niko stood just inside the grate of the sliding door hidden from any peeping toms or satellite imaging – save for infrared, but fuck that. He was able to eavesdrop again, making sure Josh wasn't screwing us over with the most well-constructed scam known to man. Hell, known to pucks I would even go that far.

"Hey," Cassie hummed in my ear. In my distraction, she's skirted over to me. With the heels she didn't even have to press to her toes much to turn my face and take my mouth. I assumed I'd get a goodbye kiss, but with out present company I hadn't expected it to be so gratuitous.

We were in easy view of everyone, but that didn't stop Cassie's tongue from delving past my lips as if giving me a full taste of what I'd be missing as I sent her away or maybe a heaping helping of her flavor to tide me over. Either way, I almost gave off an illicit groan for the sensation and I _did _stumble forward when she pulled back. My mouth still parted and my body eager for more. Much more.

"You're cruel."

"Be careful," she lectured in response. I was strange to be looking into fake lavender eyes. I liked the rich mahogany better. With a little hesitance this time, Cassie gave me one last –much chaster – kiss. "I don't want to avenge the loss of life or limb. We've seen what that looks like. It's not pretty."

"Catcher described it as frighteningly beautiful," Niko said as he and Josh joined us in the kitchen area. Promise had the rugs steamed at some point; most of the blood was invisible. My brother stopped to continue his teasing just over Castiella's shoulder. There was a shadow of a smirk on his lips. "Like a comet speeding through the aurora lights coming straight for your house."

I was glad when her expression of annoyance trained on Nik instead of me for a change.

"You let him do what he needs to do, little brother." That pointed finger poked at Niko's chest now. "Gate, grenade, evisceration; you let him finish this quickly, because I like my bed and more importantly I like Cal in that bed with me. _Claro_?"

"_Claro._ I will see to it," He smiled as he bent to meet Cassie halfway to a kiss on the cheek. It was good Nik agreed to letting me off the leash this time. I needed it. I wanted Hob dead and a quick gate was the best way in achieving that, quickly.

Robin twirled a ringlet of brown around his finger when Cas came around to him. He'd been the one to supply the last minute contacts, heels, and wig, which meant it was high-quality and probably not synthetic. Even for a one time use Goodfellow bought only the best. What they said to each other wasn't in English, it was a language much older. Cassie kissed Robin's tattooed wrist; a gesture I foresaw becoming an irritating habit between the two. They hugged and Goodfellow patted her ass with a wink and one last phrase I vowed to type into Google Translate later.

My lover gave me a lingering look over her shoulder, and then she was out the door with her hood up. Niko followed. It was best that he make a show of seeing his 'lover' out. I just hoped they didn't kiss goodbye like she had with me.

Twenty minutes later Dante left. Without as much fanfare, but with my chest just as heavy. I told him to take care of his mother and I knew he would. And then it was just me and Niko, like always, with Robin and Promise, helping two humans figure out how to survive in this paien world.

"They bought it," Josh informed me in the wake of half my family leaving.

"The Vigil or us?" I growled.

The huntsman looked troubled or maybe hurt by that, but a shit I could not give. My lover and my son were gone from my sight again. It was never a good feeling and the last few times I was without them I'd thought them dead. I muttered a curse aimed at Josh and pushed him aside. No one followed me into my room.

Several hours later, when I felt I could come out of said room without either verbally or physically beating Josh up, we regrouped and went to the park. Mostly for reconnaissance, but a few of us also needed to get the hell out of the penthouse for a bit.

Night had fallen, the sky was a thick enough indigo that Promise could join us without a heap of fabric to protect her, but to continue making the vigilant Vigil believe she was intellectually hostage at some money-painted gala, I gated her to a bench off a beaten hiking trail. It was an area most didn't tread at night lest they wanted to be mugged or killed after they'd already mugged or killed someone else.

Promise sat primly on the park bench with a tissue to her mouth to mask the almost retching reaction non-Auphe had to my particular mode of transportation. She liked it about as much as Goodfellow.

"You good?"

"Fantastic," she murmured. The soft lull of her silken voice marred with an unsophisticated grunt of a subtle dry heave.

"Want me to pick you up a gyro at the cart off 63rd?" Violet eyes flashed a glare and I bent down and kissed her cheek. "We'll be by soon."

Knowing she could handle herself against a few thieves or human degenerates, regardless to her nausea, I gated back to the penthouse. We took the elevator for George and as we left the lobby I made sure she was tucked between Josh and me with Niko and tattooed Robin taking the rear. Off we went. Just as little stroll about town. And a means to track the positions of whoever may be following.

We stopped by the Greek vendor I'd mentioned to Promise, who was far enough away from the shadowed parts that he felt safe in his grease-smeared smock. Hell, he was probably packing a shotgun or 45 behind the cart if he was a true New Yorker. Niko only got a water, since this was merely for show, but I hadn't eaten since breakfast and the others were hungry as well so we actually bought dinner to take with us to the park. It looked normal, or at least I hope it did to whoever was watching.

I even stuffed an extra wax-paper wrapped gyro in my pocket, pretending I was taking it back to Cassie. The plan was to keep the Vigil guessing as well as lure Hob out. There wasn't much we could do, but keep ourselves out in the open. Tempting either party to come and make a move. I didn't like fighting in the constraining area of the apartment even if it was over three thousand square feet. I wasn't cold-hearted enough not to be worried where my stray bullets would go should it pierce the floor. There were humans in that complex; rich dicks and bitches, but humans nonetheless.

Niko and George kept up the majority of the conversation. Talking about school and classes and their jobs as teaching aids. Niko, of course, threw in that Georgina could try and convince me to enroll in a class or two of my own. Robin didn't even bother to insult my intelligence by claiming it would be a waste of money. Not until I kicked at his pressed pants for his distraction.

The puck was worried about the other puck, worried about Cassie and Dante and maybe his lover as well, but so was I and this scene wouldn't be believable if he wasn't yammering on the first chance he got. He knew it too. Hence the soft apology before he expertly dove into a rant about how the institution had changed and fell short of what it once was. Because he taught at Harvard and Yale and Oxford – I wasn't surprised as the list went on and I wasn't too disbelieving of it.

I tuned him out, just happy for the background noise and found myself walking in back with Josh. He did a convincing job of subtly pulling away from me as if I were diseased, all the while his gaze surveyed the surroundings like Nik always did. I would've questioned if he was acting or just that much of a dick, if he hadn't spoken to me in slow, murmured words for only my ears to receive.

"I'm not going to betray you, Caliban. And I swear to you, if you can give me recorded proof of what they have done I will get it to the right hands. We can abolish the Manhattan Chapter."

I pressed my lips together, watched him struggle with the large black duffle bag he insisted on carrying with him.

Living for as long as I had in a world where no one was honest, everyone wanted something from you, and most were willing to take it without considering the repercussions, I had a hard time buying into a benevolent promise. I was hard enough guilt-tripping people into coughing up a few dollars so Nik and I could splurge on a pizza before we could even try to get legitimate jobs. I was not so gullible that I would put faith into Josh's honorable knight declarations of justice.

"Concentrate on Hob, Josh," I told him. "Help me kill that bastard and we'll call it even. You and George can go home to your white picket fence with a promise that you will never come near my family wearing your Vigil blues."

"The Defense and Enforcement Division wears black and you are not in my jurisdiction." He scratched at his nose with his right hand. The cast had come off. Katherine had healed the broken bone enough for Niko to cut the plaster. I'd watched him do it from the threshold of my room, while George explained why she knew the accursed name of Grimm. An incident that probably fed her theory that our fates were rightfully intertwined while it just made me realize that no distance from me was safe enough.

Grimm had killed her. The same way Cherish and her chupacabra had killed me. It was only in the mind, but that stuck with you. Niko had seen me die like that and George had gotten to see it first hand what Grimm wanted to do with her. What he planned to do to her. Her gift saved her, but it wouldn't save her from the nightmares that would derive from that memory.

It stuck with Niko that was for sure; he kept glancing back at me and Josh as we walked through the park as if to make sure I was there, on two feet and not in pieces.

"I joined the Vigil for a reason, Caliban," Josh went on. He said it like I would imagine a marine announced he did it for his country. Josh was human, could have been a marine, but he was a human like Niko. He wanted to protect more than serve. Actually, the two of them weren't much for the serving part. His affliction was misguided ignorance, and every synonym connected to it.

"I want to be able to protect the ones I love and the innocents that can't protect themselves. Once upon a time, I though that only encompassed humans." Josh paused as a peal of laughter from Georgina drifted back to us. I tried not to let that mirthful sound drive nails into my chest, tried not to think about what Grimm had mentally done to her. Josh wanted to protect her, same as me.

"Being with the Vigil has taught me that creatures I thought monsters are just as…'human' as I am. They want to survive and sometimes they want to help. Like you…like Castiella."

"You really have a thing for Cassie, don't you?"

"What? No!" Josh argued, his face flushing slightly under his drawn black hoodie. "She has a light inside her, like Georgina, and I acknowledge that, but what I have for her is respect. Battling against one half of your nature and doing so with such grace cannot be easy."

I snorted. He had no idea.

"Your son and his future little brother, they are just as innocent as a human child. I understand that now. You and Castiella…you might have reason to right past wrongs and perhaps you shall be punished for them one day, if you haven't already, but someone shouldn't be caged for what they _might_ do. Even humans have the potential for mass homicide and some have risen to that potential."

"What's your point, Josh?" I asked. We were just a quarter mile from the bench where Promise was waiting, but more than that I thought I caught a whiff of forest pines in an area they were decidedly not. Robin and his musk were downwind from me…that scent came from behind.

"You don't trust me, I understand that, but that isn't going to stop me from doing what is right."

"Good for you," I intoned, peering over my shoulder. We had a shadow, several in fact, but none of them had the cocky strut of a well-muscle puck. They were hunched, close to the ground, some slithering like snakes around the dim lamplights and some skittering between inky puddles of darkness. "Shit."

Josh followed my gaze and frozen instantly on the path. Had he not gone to the little boy's room before we left he might have pissed himself. As it was, his face went from healthy tan to sheet white in an instant. One of our visitors had hunkered down right under a flickering lamp. Talons making an eerie screech as it dragged them down the metal post.

"Are those…"

I knew what they were before the moonlight caught their pasty hides and reflected off scales littered sporadically over their bodies. Josh hadn't seen Grimm, never met him, but the Vigil probably had a sketch artist render some far-fetched rendition for him to go off of. Probably the same thing for the Auphe. But a sketch could only instill so much fear and instinct could tell you a great deal more though, like when you were facing off with the greatest evil of all time. Or, in this case, their bastardized replacement.

I patted Josh's shoulder. "No," I told him. "Those are Grimm's bundles of joy."

He shot me a look of pure disgust laced with confusion. Nik and Robin had already unsheathed their bladed weapons. Everyone was armed with a firearm, but against the bae a blade would do just fine.

"George," I beckoned and she quickly arrived next to her fiancé. She probably saw the family resemblance, if not with Grimm then with the Auphe she saw in visions she should have never glimpsed. "Stay by Josh. I'll try to remain close." I slapped Josh lightly across the jaw to snap that horrified look off his face. Well, maybe not that lightly. "Don't play nice, white knight. Just kill them. They make no attempt to resist the urge to murder, but they are equal-opportunity about it."

"Bullets?"

"Work fine." I tapped my head to indicate where he should aim. It was better not to get into that whole, their hearts are tiny targets and not tucked away in the breast plate thing. Josh nodded, that was all he needed. The duffle bag dropped to his feet, his arm snaked around Georgina's waist, and he lifted his Berretta. It was armed with a new silencer that Dante bought him; the extra weight and his not quite healed arm did nothing to unsteady his aim. He was ready this time.

I turned to the mob approaching. I didn't want to wait for the snakes to form a plan, if their lizard brains could manage one more than pounce, dig fangs in, and suck dry. I let loose bullets in manual bursts of three, assessing the area between to shift aim when the tricky reptilian nightmares gated up, down, all around.

That was when the huntsman dropped to his duffle bag. He shouted for cover, but he didn't realize how pointless that was with us. You didn't need to ask for cover, we would knock off the bad guy's head if he snuck up behind you or at least before he killed you. Cover was for pussies.

I took out two stragglers that were popping up behind my brother, who was hacking limb and head off faster than the moonlight could track him. Robin was doing the same to my other side, keeping the buggers from a perimeter around Georgina, and by association, Josh. Currently, there weren't any around Josh for me to provide cover from, but for some reason I stay beside them all the same. Even if the idiot deserved a metal fang to the ass for his distracted bag riffling, I didn't feel like dragging that paralyzed ass home.

"The fangs have paralytic venom," Niko shouted as if reading my idle mind. "Don't let them bite you." That wasn't actually for me, though I'd been the one bitten last time. It was for the humans, because we had yet to see what that venom could do to a human.

There were a lot of them. Hob took up Grimm's army with no effort at all, _if_ this was Hob's doing. I didn't like coincidences and I doubted this was one of the few I'd actually come across. The bae were here for a reason, either Hob or Grimm and the longer I hadn't seen Grimm the more I was betting on Hob. He'd been working with the Auphe for years now. Bossing these lesser demons around would probably give that massive dick of his a boner harder than steel.

"Josh," I warned. I couldn't stay by his unprotected side forever. I needed him to defend George. The bae were swarming Robin. The puck was brilliant with a blade, actually using the lighter broadsword with one hand while firing a borrowed Glock with the other. He could fight any enemy standing before him. I'd seen him in action enough times to never doubt that, but the bae weren't standing in front of him. They weren't even leaping, crouching or crawling. They were gating, like flies buzzing around your face while you were trying to sleep. Goodfellow was having trouble swatting them out of the sky, but when he did, it was in pieces.

One of the scaly bitches dropped onto his shoulders. Robin wrenched it off, running it through before it even touched the ground. "I believe we have now seen reason for Cas to teach you how to project your gates, Caliban."

"Tell that to big brother, not me. I've been looking forward to that lesson." It was too late now anyway. Not to late for me to open a gate inside the bae loping toward Georgina's unguarded side though. It exploded in a gush of white limbs and violet blood. Succubae bled blue, Auphe more of a red so dark it was black, together it made the purple of a fresh bruise. Interesting.

"Caliban, don't gate!" Josh called like I'd just used my sleeve as a tissue.

I plugged another uncoordinated bae in the face, watching the lifeless body act like a bowling ball and knock down three others with dead weight. With a shrug, I took out those flailing idiots as well. Then I turned to Josh to tell him he could keep his demands and opinions to himself.

He was down on one knee, Georgina huddled at his back. In his hands he pulled back the string of a compact bow no longer than two feet. It was wicked, black, and had a bow sight that lit up blue. The cables creaked with the tension, but the arrow he had knocked looked nothing like one you would pull out of a quiver. Instead of a piercing arrow head it looked like a tiny tuna can. The first shot missed the bae charging to his left and hit a tree where it stuck to the bark and the can started blinking the same blue as the sight. A quick pivot and he did it again high on another tree trunk.

He dropped his aim, brandished his Berretta, took out the charging beast only a leap away, and aimed with the bow again. Nailing another thick trunk, he missed two more bae. They gated right in front of me with talons outstretched in a fervor for flesh. I busted one open with an internal gate and smack a fang out of the other's mouth. My bullet sunk into its skull before it could gate again.

"Josh, what the hell are you doing?" I shouted. He was missing on purpose, if my assumption that he was about to blow some shit up was correct. "Bombs aren't necessary! Calm down and shoot 'em in the head!"

"Not a bomb," Josh countered. He lodged a fifth blue-light tuna can high on another tree, then stood up. His arm stretched the bow overhead, his thumb on the bow sight. "Don't. Gate."

I ducked when wires sprung from the bow to the tree locked cylinders like a stun gun. It was the same from one blue light to another, until we were surrounded by a web of millimeter-thick cable. It was too far out to protect us, all the bae were inside the net. Not that it mattered. The bae wouldn't even need their claws to swipe the cables down like the thread of a spider's web. "What the hell, you idiot!"

"Fish in a barrel," Josh muttered. He pressed a switch next to the bow sight and the lights went red. I braced for an explosion, but all that sounded was the twang of him letting the bow go, leaving it aloft overhead. "Don't touch the wire."

I watched a current spark along the web, singeing the tree bark. At least half the remaining bae started wailing and seized on the ground. Little rips in space unrealized as the electric shock therapy of the cables forced their primary weapon useless. We were inside a fucking anti-gate cage. I could feel the electricity vibrating along my spine.

"Shoot 'em," Josh demanded, finally taking out a few of the hybrids himself.

Without their gates the bae were easy pickings. Fish in a barrel, like Josh said. A few attempted to pull down the cables and were electrocuted in place, until one of us got around to exploding or hacking off their head. It was done in minutes once the net was up.

Grimm's ilk was nothing more than a mass of body and limb on the grass. We'd fought groups of them before, but my approximate headcount put them at twenty eight. Good enough to be considered a small army considering what they were. We might have just taken out _all_ of his offspring in one go.

I kicked one of those counted heads toward the sagging web, watching its lank white hair sizzle and burn. After helping Georgina up from the grass, Josh returned to the bow. He released the wires from the weapon and they fell inert to the ground. The cans were still connected and taut, but the smell of burnt hide and the sound of bacon cooking on a skillet died down.

I lifted my eyebrows at the huntsman; the nickname even more appropriate with the high-tech ranged weapon in hand. I tapped my own weapon to my thigh, before pressing the barrel to the grip of the compact bow. "New Vigil toy? One that's only made to keep innocents safe?"

Josh panted a little from the adrenaline rush, his hazel eyes just now returning to their normal size. He jaw tightened at my comment. He dropped the bow at my feet. "I was coming into a dangerous city to seek help from a half-Auphe I didn't trust. Where another one, more nefarious, could have been hiding in the shadows. I took precautions."

"Thanks for the warning then. Mighty courteous of you."

"It worked," Niko interjected. He wiped his katana blade against his pant leg as he surveyed the carnage we left behind. "It worked well."

I nudged a foot to the duffle bag, pulling the zippered teeth apart to see inside. "Anymore where that came from?"

"No," Josh offered. He snatched the bag up and over his shoulder. "Other than a tazer, the Rubicon was the only thing I borrowed from my affiliates. The rest is an arsenal much like yours." He dug into the duffle again and wrestled a sub-machine gun out of the recesses. That was my kind of Mary Poppin's bag.

"I do have other tricks though and I'm willing to share."

Josh offered me the MP5 and I gladly took it. My Desert Eagle tucked away in its holster for back up. "As I said," I muttered as I checked out the full magazine and accepted the extra Josh gave me. "Mighty courteous of you."

"Rubicon." Niko's voice carried from where he was inspecting one of the cans that blinked blue again. I could tell he was going to go off on a lecture of where the name came from. And regardless to the fact that he wasn't involved in the Vigil, he'd probably be right. "Coming from Ceasar, I'm guessing. He crossed the river of Rubicon, which was considered an act of insurrection at the time, and thus Crossing the Rubicon became equated with a point of no return or the casting of dice. Rubicon is also derived from the latin word for 'red'."

"It is their point of no return, not ours," Josh replied.

"Caliban." Promise's voice carried like a whisper on the breeze. Not that she had to be stealthy with the ruckus we just caused. Even with the silencers those bae screamed aplenty when the Rubic's cube or con or whatever came out of the bag.

She waited at the edge of the wire web, unsure if she could or should cross through. Niko sliced through the thin cage for her, taking the device from borrowed to broken in one swipe. Her dark lavender eyes assessed the meat piled up with a quick scan, then fell on me. There was a box tucked under her arm, her revolver in the other. "I started to come when I heard the bae. I felt something behind me and saw Hobgoblin by the bench. Just his shadow as he walked away, but he left this behind."

The present was offered daintily to me with her hand flat underneath. A shoebox-sized rectangle, white, with no markings except for a red ribbon tied in a bow. I stepped back from it like it was a bomb, which might have been a human reaction considering the news lately, but it was a much different reason for me. The last time Hob sent me a gift it was a thick tail of curly auburn hair hacked from George's scalp. A taunt to tell me all the things he could have sent me instead. If we didn't get the crown, if we didn't play his game.

Georgina was not in Hob's hands. She was behind me, unscathed even in the middle of this mess. Hob had nothing I wanted. Hob had nothing to threaten me with. So why was I terrified to open that box?

Robin made the decision for me. Fed up with the puck that made him, he fleeced the box from Promise and tore off the ribbon and lid three paces from me. I still caught a whiff of something dead and rotting – sweet, poisonous decay. Goodfellow stared inside with a furrowed brow. His upper lip pulled back, perfect white teeth flashing. He closed the box. "_Gamato._"

"Robin," Niko prompted, both questioning what was seen and requesting our friend hand him the gift. Goodfellow chucked it instead. It went into a nearby shrub, hidden from sight inside the thicket.

"This is all that needs to be seen," he proclaimed, holding up a piece of parchment between thumb and forefinger. I hadn't seen him pull it out of the box, but when it came to a pickpocket that predated pockets to pick you never saw it.

Niko took the paper, studying the address and further instruction written there in flawless penmanship. His gray eyes flickered up to Goodfellow, unrelenting. "What was in the box, Robin?"

Movie quotes pinged around in my head for only a split second, before the nausea swelled and I had to lean into George to keep from vomiting. She held me, whispering that she was fine because she knew what a box like that could hold and could mean.

"A dead leucistic black bird and a sprig of foxglove," Robin recited in a deadened tone.

The MP5 fell to the grass at my feet. A splash of bile and gyro followed suit. Dante. He had my son. He stole the little blackbird.

_Fucker's gonna pay_. _Game on, goat._


	17. Chapter Sixteen - Cal

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CAL

It wasn't the whole bird. Just a wing. Leucistic, I learned, meant something like albinism. In this instance it meant more white in a commonly black bird. In this instance, a wing with a mix of black and white feathers that resembled Dante's too significantly to be a guess.

I sat on the couch with the box resting on the coffee table, staring at the wing as if it would somehow allow me to catch a glimpse of him. The others were in my kitchen, gathered around a pot of coffee; it was going to be a long night.

The address, Niko learned, was an abandoned bar once owned by the Kin. It was near enough to a rundown part of Chinatown that it obviously didn't just serve drinks when it was a bar. Not that being once run by the Kin didn't already allude to that. Perhaps unknowingly, Hob had chosen one of the buildings Cassie had burned down just a year or so ago for the showdown. The day he had chosen, on the other hand, had no significance other than being twenty-four hours too far away.

I heard Niko pace over to me. He didn't try to mask his steps like usual. They were still near silent, but the tick of the ceramic mug he place beside the box was audible. My eyes were trained on the wing, on the thin stem dotted with vibrant blue-violet flowers that were certainly not blooming in this area unless they were imported to a flower shop. My eyes were focused there, until Niko's olive-skinned hand and a white box lid obscured the visual. He stepped over my knees with a single graceful step.

"What have we learned about pucks, Cal?"

I glared at him, shifting my head just slightly since my knuckles were still pressed to my lips. My brother mimicked my slouched position. He tucked his fist under his chin though.

"Never put more than one in a room without a whore who likes it rough and some noise-cancelling headphones."

Niko's mouth twitched to almost a smile, which meant the joke worked, no matter how honestly I came by it. I'd said it to prove I hadn't lost my marbles yet, even if I felt raw beneath that cynical exterior.

"And?" Niko prompted. When I only gave a shrug in response, he filled in the blank. "They're intelligent and experienced, but egomaniacal and eager to brag and they lie."

"I'm right here, you know," Robin called from the kitchen. "After all the years I have laid down my life for your substandard existences and that is the epitaph I will receive. Lovely. I'm ecstatic to know all of my sacrifices and devotion had brought you to such a beautiful conclusion."

"Present company not excluded," Niko countered. He didn't bother raising his voice. Goodfellow could hear us just fine and likening himself to the overgrown dick that took my son wouldn't win him any favor right now.

"Your point, as I'm assuming there is one?"

Niko handed me my phone and in almost the same motion tucked the box under his arm as he stood. "Before you believe a liar, find out the truth."

"Is that Buddha or Gandhi?"

My brother lifted his eyebrows archly. "Call Cassie and make sure Dante is there. Hob could have lied to cause you panic. He used the same tactic as he had with George, that alone shows he understands the impact his previous actions had on you."

"And if he isn't bluffing? I don't want to panic Cassie too."

"And I don't want to listen to you snore on the couch when she boots you there for not calling her in this situation. Call her, or I will." He kicked my shin lightly for good measure.

With a sigh, I called Cassie. Damned if I did, damned if I didn't. It couldn't make the rocks roiling about in my stomach any larger, now could it? She answered without any particularly strenuous cadence to her voice like she had when I'd called four hours ago to make sure he had made it to her side five minutes after he'd left. I could hear nothing in the background to indicate her location, but that was a good thing.

"Hey love, is Dante there?"

There was a significant pause that made me want to get up and punch Niko in the face, then the peculiar answer, "Not at the moment." It was spoken slowly as if she were assessing my voice just as closely as I had hers. "He just went out to get us some food. Why? What's wrong?"

I'd almost let myself believe Niko might be right and this was all a big hoax at my expense, but then she said he'd left. Had Hob snagged him when he went out for pizza? How had Hob even detained him? Dante was just as experienced with gates and I was and he wasn't any less ruthless than his mother when it was warranted. Was it the Auphe? Had Hob seriously aligned with the Auphe?

"Cal," Castiella said sharply.

Niko eyed me from his leaned position against the island. The others were sipping coffee in silence around him. He didn't need to hear Cassie's side of the conversation to know if I was lying to my girlfriend. Hell, with Promise and her vampire auditory enhancements, she could probably pick up every syllable and recap after anyway. So lying wasn't an option. Niko would be disappointed and Cas…well, she would string me up when she found out.

"Hob left us a present. An army of bae as a welcome party and a note that implied he had Dante."

That was it. That was all she needed to know. I'd talk to her about Josh's portable cage-fight and, maybe, the details of the gift later, but right now short and sweet was the best way to get the words out. As it was, there was a long pause over her line and then the soft sound of her picking up her things. "He got a call before he left. Didn't tell me who. It's been twenty minutes; I'm coming back."

"No, you aren't," I countered. "Hob doesn't have him then. There's no way. You wait for him and when he gets back he doesn't leave. Understood? Neither of you leave."

"Cali…"

"Please," I ground out through my teeth. "Just stay there. We'll finish this. We have a time and a place and blueprints so he can't get the jump on us. Just let me finish this and you can come home tomorrow."

"I hate this," she whispered softly. "I promised Niko I'd take care of you."

I felt my brow pull in. When had she done that? I shook my head to clear the pointless thought. "I need you to take care of my sons. Niko can take care of me. Okay?"

"You keep me posted, Caliban Leandros, I'm not above calling your brother to rat on you."

I smirked. "I will." We exchanged concerned words of affection and I hung up with my jaw set. "Dante left twenty minutes ago. It's a short window for Hob to snag him and that would mean he bluffed with our present. He didn't have Dante yet."

"No," Goodfellow said in a manner that sounded like gears were ramping up inside his head. He put down his coffee mug and slid off the barstool as I made my way into the kitchen. "That means he never had Dante and doesn't still. He lured him out. I wouldn't put it past Dante to think he might have a chance to take care of this without involving his parents at all. He has met with Hob before under more or less friendly terms. Either he believes he can convince Hob to back off or he believe he can kill Hob to make up for his earlier follies."

Something clicked in the back of my head. "A friend." It was a slow clicking and took a few seconds to form into words. "Dante said he went to Hob because he wanted to check on a friend associated with the bastard. Dante doesn't have many friends; Hob could use threats to get Dante out just like he's threatening Dante to get to me."

I grabbed my jacket when the puck tossed it to me. There was a white-toothed smile on his face and I could feel my own lip pulling back to bare mine. "He set this up to get Dante tonight, which it why the show down is scheduled for tomorrow."

"Pucks are also very good a chess. We often think five steps ahead, complete with contingency plans."

"So we go to the old bar now. Head him off," I agreed. My jacket was already over my shoulders and covering up the Desert Eagle that never left my side. I was surprised to see everyone else in motion too. Even George and Josh were preparing to leave. I slapped at hand to Josh's arm, giving him a level look.

"Contingency plans," I reminded him. "Hob will have a plan f through p, which means if you and George come with that would be as good as setting this thing up to happen tonight."

Josh's mouth formed a tight line. "And if he planned that as well and isn't even in the location? That leaves George and me here alone and, as much as it pains me to admit it, even with two good arms I'm no match for Hob."

That brought about all sorts of conundrums in my head. If I let them come it would be like handing George over on a silver platter, if I had them stay and Hob foresaw that it would be the same. They needed protection here; that was the bottom line and the safest bet. "So I go. Alone."

Goodfellow let off a short laugh. I knew the improbability that Niko would allow me to face Hob on my own and Robin had made his faith in my chance of survival against the older puck clear last time we faced him. "It's the only thing that makes sense, Nik."

"It doesn't make sense at all," my brother argued sharply. "Hob wants nothing more than to kill you. He doesn't have a time frame for that, just that he wants it done. You are also one of the more formidable against him since you are a wild card. My tactics and Robin's tactics he knows and he practices himself with expertise. So how is leaving the sacrifice and the coveted prize with the two people he knows how to fight the plan that makes sense."

"It makes sense when you use the tricks under my bed."

"I'm not blowing up the penthouse."

"Well, the flamethrower—"

"I'm not burning down the penthouse."

"So what then?" I demanded. "I can't base this all on what if Hob does this or that! I need to go get my son. I'm not losing him to the Auphe again, because _that_ is what Hob plans!"

Goodfellow stepped in, placing a hand to my and Josh's shoulders. I shrugged mind off, glaring at the puck for the affection. I wanted none of it from him at the moment. Not when he shared the same face as the man – the monster – causing my heart to palpated into arrest several times in the last few days.

"They go to Cassie," he suggested. Not at all put off by my rejection. "She may not be able to gate as of right now, but that doesn't mean her fighting skills have lessened. She battles in a manner Hob cannot anticipate. As you saw from their tussle here. While pucks, particularly Hob and I, know nearly every form of combat, including the more recent lean toward firearms, he is not as familiar with the devastating passion of a mother protecting her young. An Auphe mother, as I must emphasize."

I clenched my jaw. "So I put Cassie in danger after I sent her away from it?"

"We need to annihilate Hob quickly. He will expect us to fight him tonight. He will know the insinuation that he has obtained Dante will send you straight to that address. Therefore, the concern that he will, instead, come here to collect the other pieces is very real, which means you need to go alone."

I opened my mouth to argue, then snapped it shut when I realized he'd just agreed with me. It wasn't often the puck was on my side of the crazy plans I concocted, but I wasn't about to refute it. Nik, on the other hand, nearly pushed Goodfellow back when he interrupted. Big brother's hand gripped my shoulder tightly this time, probably as a failsafe if I decided to gate immediately.

"Cal can't go alone. Hob wants him dead. Claimed he was going to kill Cal or give him to the Auphe before he began the ritual. I'm not allowing this!"

"Cal _can_ go alone, in fact, he needs to," Robin argued. "He's the only one who can search that building and get back here in as much time as it would take you to come up with five reasons to stubbornly refuse this._ And _if there is nothing or a hell of a lot of trouble waiting he can gate back faster than I can give my partner an orgasm. Cal goes alone."

"No—"

"Niko, if Hob is there he can pull us with him. If it is only Dante, he returns with him safe. If there is no one, he returns again and probably will be helping us fight off Hob in the comfort of Promise's beautiful home."

"I like it," I said, giving Goodfellow a smile for his assistance.

"Of course, you like it. Any excuse to gate off the handle you take!" Niko snapped.

"Hey! This time it's for legitimate use. And if I really was that reckless why am I waiting for a group decision, huh?" I brushed his hand from my shoulder like I had Goodfellow's.

Nik fell silent, his eyes sharply flickering from me to Robin. They finally fixed on George and stayed there for a full minute. Niko didn't often ask Georgina to use her powers for us. He bought into the whole what is unknown is better left experienced bullshit, but my life was in the balance –there was a lot more than my life in the balance, but that was the one he concentrated on most of the time.

George closed her eyes with a sigh and shook her head minutely. It was the only answer asked of her, Niko didn't push her further. He turned bodily to me. "You have five minutes before I follow you."

I tried not to smile in triumph as I nodded. "Five minutes."

"Grab your guns ladies and gents, it's field trip time," Robin called as I wrapped a gate around myself never taking my eyes off my brother.

The bar was still a skeleton of charred remains. It looked untouched since Cassie torched it. Even the caution tape had been torn from around the perimeter, though the haphazard chain-link fence stood tall. I had traveled inside the enclosure, gazing up at it as if it were a living thing I was about to battle.

I still hadn't asked Cassie what she had done to cause the fires that night. It never seemed right to bring up the one time she'd lost her mind and gone full Auphe on the Wolves. There were certain memories everyone believed were better left in the lockbox of denial and the knowledge that we lost our eldest son to the Auphe that night due to our own stupidity was one I happily stored away in the depths of my brain until Dante's fear of abandonment needed professional help.

Only half the corner building was erect. The inferno was stifled before it consumed the back and part of the second story or leapt to the row of businesses connected to it down the strip. Surprisingly, it hadn't seemed to have been bought up by some mogul looking to flip it into a cheap condo or a new club for those who dared this section of lower Manhattan. Even the Kin hadn't started new construction, as they had for several of the other sites Cassie had burned to the ground. Maybe they just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

There was a condemned sign stapled to a beam that obviously once was connected to a load-baring front wall. Now it was just a post, blackened and pealing with ash. The floors crunched under my boots, some planks even lifting around the edges. The whole building seemed to groan from the abuse of my weight. If I hadn't known this was a bar previously its current state would have given me no indication.

Even the front part of the second story was exposed. Showing a dollhouse effect of the rooms above. Bits of velvet couches sat askew on the missing floorboards, dark wallpaper pealed from the heat of the previous fire. Tables were overturned and wires hung down where televisions used to be. I doubted those were victims of the fire. Thieves probably managed to scavenge those flat screens. Regardless, those empty rooms looked creepy as hell and I was hoping the stairwell didn't make it.

I nudged a cracked bottle of whiskey with my toe and took in a deep breath, searching for scents other then burnt wood, alcohol, and stale piss that was either from the previous resident canines or current homeless squatters. I didn't pick up any hint of Hob or Dante and there was really no immediate sign they'd even been here.

The bar counter shaved neatly off its base as well as the chunks of table and chair that looked to be sawed in half with a sharp circular saw spoke of Cassie's presence, but I already knew that. Catcher had told me about her horizontally projected gates. I'd seen what they could do to a Jeep and could clearly imagine what it could do to a pack of Wolves coming at you in a bar. It was a satisfying image, but it wasn't going to help me find my son.

Dante wasn't here and I was running out of minutes. I clenched my jaw. There was no need for me to waste time in an empty lot. Hob obviously meant to attack while I was out, just like Robin had said.

"Dad!"

I slammed the gate shut before it cloaked around me and spun at that familiar call. Dante was on the other side of the chain-link fence. His pale fingers wrapped around the edge of a diamond in the pattern. "Why are you here?"

I hopped down the crumbling stoop, rushing over to him. "Why am _I_ here? Go to your mother, now!"

"Hob said he'd brought my friend here. He was going to kill him, if I didn't bring Uncle Niko. Then he said he already had Uncle Niko and it didn't matter what I did…"

"When?"

"An hour ago."

"He lied. Now go to your mom. Nik is safe." Though I had no idea if this 'friend' was, but I also didn't care.

"You say that like a lie. Like you're trying to get me to leave," Dante countered.

I shook my head and took the pedestrian route of scaling the fence. "I'm not lying. Please. Hob claimed he had you, that's why I'm here. He's playing us. Just go back. Hob has nothing."

"Okay." He opened the gate behind him, obediently returning to his mother's side. So why did his eyes widen when the tear expanded to a small vortex?

A hand grabbed his arm, if it could even be called that. Then another at his ankle, his neck, his shoulder.

"Dante!" The white hands were all over him, the thick black talons already drawing blood as they pulled. I caught his jacket, sliced through the arm at his throat with several violent hacks of the Ka-bar. Nightmares from before were blinding me. When I gripped at his nape I was holding a little eighteen-month-old boy to my chest. I was wrenching him away from the Auphe so desperate for their new little toy, now was no different. I sawed through another arm at the elbow joint while Dante joined me with his own tactical knife. When we got the third hand free from him, though there were dozens more, Dante gated us. Not home, not to his mother, just five feet from the blackened rip before us.

He was panting, but he held the wrist of my hand still glued to his nape. He pressed his forehead to mine as young Auphes spilled out of the maw, laughing despite their missing limbs or fallen comrades. "It'll be alright," Dante whispered, intensifying the déjà vu feeling.

His gray eyes fixed on mine, ignoring the six Auphe that had slipped out of the rip before the gate closed. Six bae I could handle, six of pretty much any paien in the world I could handle, but these nightmares…six meant they were playing with us, but six was plenty to kill me with.

"Go home, Dante," I pleased.

He eyed the Auphe. His leucistic wings emerging from his back and stretching majestically. His gray iris filled with the color of blood. I watched my son stand up with a tactical knife in each hand and marveled at his gall. He was just a slight teen, barely five-ten, and still with baby-fat rounding his jaw, but he had balls. "We'll go home when this is done."

I smiled, looked at the Auphe, and for once wasn't terrified…well, not _as_ terrified. A little part of me was still pretty sure I was going to die tonight, but I might as well have some fun before I kicked it, right?

Never played many games as a child. Other than the ones Niko used to get me to study or exercise, hone my hunting skills and all that jazz. Adult games – I learned with Cassie – where much more fun than getting into a scuffle with a kid twice my age and girth over a sore loser loss in dodge ball. Yup, I liked the games where clothing were optional much better.

I was beginning to wonder if I would have been one of those guys that kicked respectable ass at paintball and lazer tag though, because I was having a blast in this Auphe battle with Dante.

Once the fear drained out of my body to make room for instinct and adrenaline, it felt like we were fighting side by side in Hell's arena. Blood rushed through my veins like high octane set alight. My skin burned with the same fierceness due to the countless razor-edged scratches that were quickly trying to make this game clothing optional as well. That was the closest they could get to us. Reverting our jeans and cow-hide jackets to ribbons, but keeping more of our blood within our bodies.

There was a massive gate that opened in the remains of the charred building. Concrete, bits of furniture, and empty bottles all tumbled into the void as it interrupted the space between the last load-baring wall on the second floor. There was still enough room for it to be their portal, a means to let the injured retreat (though that rarely happened with the Auphe) and the new waves to commence. The first six were already dead, but where they were visiting Hades, we were still occupied with more hellions. My heart raced at the numbers.

Two beheaded and six took their place; it was like fighting a hydra only with moving bodies that could pop up behind you in a single thought rather than heads connected to the leash of a massive dragon body.

Dante bounced and flipped on the balls of his feet in a strange but dazzling mix of the low crouched, skittering Auphe tactics and the gorgeous, graceful flow of Castiella's fighting style. Auphe and peri through and through, even without training on the winged side of his family his genes knew the motions. All that was missing were for those short, black talons unsheathed on his fingertips to be gripping a flaming sword.

I couldn't concentrate much on my son though. The Auphe loped around him, tried to snatch and grab, but they weren't going in for the kill. They wanted their former prisoner alive. I was another story.

I grunted when one Auphe cannon-balled me in the chest, stealing my air and sprawling me on my back. A slab of concrete forced my spine into an arch, which made the weight of the alabaster bastard even more uncomfortable. It, he, slammed one foot down on my windpipe to prevent me from regaining any of the much needed oxygen. His talons speared through my wrist, slicing tendon and forcing my fingers to peel back from my gun like it was falling asleep. A little fear trickled back in.

I brought my left hand around in a fist. Knuckles met bone, and I knocked the little shit in the jaw hard enough –even in my prone position because Niko taught me how – that a few thin metal points flew out of his mouth like a hockey game brawl. One of them tinged off my own gritted teeth. It split my lip, but I was more concerned with the numbness creeping up my right arm. I pounded my fist into his temple three more times. The third connected inside a gate he tried to flee through.

An interesting image when the bastard went limp and his head disappeared through the closing gate while his body separated cleanly and slumped on top of me. The edge of the gate cut like a hot knife through butter. I grinned and shoved the headless form off me.

Didn't Robin say it was about time I learned to project?

I flexed the hand of my damaged wrist and found it incapable of gripping the gun. Whatever. I had two hands. I took up the Eagle in my left and clamored back onto my feet. Another Auphe tried to gate on my head. I blew him away without even looking up to signal I knew he was there. I shot him in the head when he slapped to the ground just to be sure, then blasted another charging for me the old fashioned way.

To my right I could see Dante was holding his own; though his own traveling was so quick paced and all over that it was beginning to look like running away.

Playtime neared an end. They'd had their fun and now it was time to collect their bounty and kill the spare. Sharp red eyes steered in my direction as if they'd set off a flare to indicate phase two. Or phase two hundred and eight two, I had no idea where phase the Auphe were on, but they'd obviously been planning this, with Hob, for a very long time. Wonder what sort of information or histories the old puck had been whispering in their ears since the young Auphe's nuked elders couldn't pass down the legacy?

"Dante!" I shouted. An instant later he was at my side, one foot on the head of another bitch shot down. She'd tried to stab me in the back with her teeth. Dante gave a sharp kick and snapped her neck with the heel of his boot.

"I'm going to try something and I would prefer you be very, very far away in case it backfires."

There was a rush of movement to my side where my son was. I was still pegging the pale assholes popping out of the huge gate like a sick version of whack-a-mole, so I couldn't see much other than what my peripheral allowed, but I swore I saw his legs over his head before he blinked out of sight. And then he was upright, splattered in more blackened blood, on my right. He was also holding a hank of white hair in hand, attached to that was a slack-jawed head barely holding on to its body by a vertebra.

"No," Dante answered me simply. I figured he wouldn't leave when I asked, but it was worth a try.

"Then stay behind me."

That he conceded to. He stepped into position at my back. It was as good as I was going to get from him. There was no way he'd abandon his father when it was clear I had a mark of death on my forehead.

The Auphe pulled back a little, like a pack of wolves –real wolves, not the hydrant-pissing, toddler-neck-snapping dogs that littered the New York City streets at night – attempting to assess their quarry's tactics and attack accordingly. Auphe didn't normally observe; this younger batch was trying something new. Well, so was I.

I didn't leave them time to survey jack shit. The moment felt my son's downy pinion feathers dusted over the tattered remains of my jacket to indicate he was there, I split open a gate in front of me. Tearing one recklessly, even wrapping one around the complex figure of a human, or multiple humanoids was easy. This was new and violent and I couldn't let the young Auphe see the process lest I wanted them using it on me next time.

The black void opened an inch deep in front of me, slicing horizontally like I was undoing a zipper on the night's sleeping bag. There was a think peek of pulsing grey and black between that stretched three feet to either side of me and hovered at waist height. A second of hesitation – the creation of the thing took even less time – where I had no idea what to do next, then boom. Something clicked in my head, like I just remembered the cheat code for unlimited ammo. I shoved the gate away from me with all the centrifugal force of a freight train.

It wasn't razor-stiff like Cassie's inch-deep projected gates, it looked more like I lifted up a comforter to smooth it into place. It rippled along the line with a snap at the end. It had the desired effect though. Again not as razor-wire at sixty miles per hour as my lovers' but the Auphe pieces fell and they fell like rain.

The gate dug into the building deeply, crossing through the portal gate. There was a strange shock that ran up my spine at the counter-forces, but I was already reeling my gate back. With how much oomph I gave it I would have been up in Yonkers before we knew it, slicing everything in its path on the way. I was pulling a door closed in the middle of a tornado, or at least that was how it felt.

There were still a dozen Auphe behind us, but their gate for the troops was completely clogged with debris now that mine had taken out the entire foundation for the second floor. It watched it fizzle out of existence as I managed to close my own.

The Auphe didn't like my new trick. In fact, with a fever pitch of several pissed off screams they were cursing it. And circling us as if challenging me to try the next level of projected gate. I wasn't ready for the ring of fire though. I wasn't even sure I could shoot another one off at all.

How did Castiella controlled the shit without breaking a sweat? I was winded, doubled over. Letting it go was liberating and thrilling, but I felt its power and its almost carnal sentient need to _keep going_. It was a trick that needed to be reined in and that was the part that strained everything from my eardrums to my toenails.

Dante's wing wrapped me in a down cocoon. I almost eased into it like an upright bed. He was gating us. Only several feet behind the building, but in the cover of the shifting dust and a safe distance from the avalanche that was the front of the building.

"Dad?" His voice sounded far off over a bad phone connection, when I knew his mouth was inches from my ear. I shook it off and pressed his black and white mosaic wing away from me.

"I'll keep up," I assured him. "Back to it, Champ."

We both traveled to the sidewalk on the other side of the chain-link fence. Street fighting was better than twisting an ankle on chunks of cinder block or tripping and falling on rebar. Been there, done that, not again, no thank you. As the dust settled and the tinkering of settling rock lessened, Dante and I noticed out adversaries were gone. Even the pulsing mansion of a gate under the second floor remained closed. The only evidence it had ever being there were the half rocks left behind when the void closed with the debris within.

We had tricked them. They'd thought we had run away. Evade and dodged, but that was hardly a good thing. I grabbed Dante's arm with my bad hand, cringing but continuing the contact. I didn't need to squeeze for him to gate us and I didn't need to tell him to do so. He knew as confidently as I did where the Auphe would go first to find us and continue the fight. And there were quite a few guests there very under prepared to face the Auphe tonight.


	18. Chapter Seventeen - Josh

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JOSH

I knew so many men and women in my units that were much too eager for their own good. They rarely lasted long. Either a hair trigger failed their psyche evaluation or got them slaughtered in a practice mission. Jumping the gun, literally, was ill advised. So staring blatantly at the space Caliban used to exist in, I felt the dismal sense that we were screwed flit through my head.

"Did he forget the part about George not being in the same place as the sacrifice or does he purposefully gloss over anything of importance?"

"Go. Now," Niko demanded in that emphatic paternal way that said he would have some words with his little brother upon Cal's return.

The puck, the good one, tossed me his cell phone. "Call Ishiah, tell him what's happening, and follow his directions."

I nodded, grabbed George's hand and hauled ass out of that penthouse. We took the elevator; something about fearing our enemy would be waiting on every landing was more than enough to deter me from taking the stairs. George was silent in our decent, holding onto my jacket sleeve and trying not to look suspicious to the lady with the nervous Pomeranian that got on at the tenth floor.

Georgina looked normal enough, but actions could draw attention and with a Berretta under the cover of my jacket and a borrowed .38 revolver strapped to my ankle we didn't want attention.

The elevator dinged on the lobby floor without incident or impending death waiting beyond the doors. George and I hustled past the heiress and her pet as quickly as we could whilst trying not to look like we robbed the place. On the sidewalk, waiting for us before I could even select our guide's contact number on the phone, was a different kind of monster all together.

I froze at the sudden appearance of four black-clad Enforcers gathered around an equally black van. Witnesses would think SWAT, high-stakes burglars, or maybe even men in black, but I recognized the badges worn half concealed under their vests as well as the tiny white moon symbol on the side of their vehicle.

One of the Enforcers stepped away from the sidewalk. He looked to be unarmed though I doubted it. "Apprentice Dent. I'm surprised to find you here. You're several miles away from the Kings' apartment."

"And you're not being very subtle about shadowing the Leandros," I countered. If they were here in the open, then they weren't monitoring at the moment. I had not doubt that _had_ been monitoring and we hadn't been too subtle ourselves regarding our association with the brothers and their friends. There was no use lying about it, truly.

"What is your reason for being here?" the Enforcer asked. I made note of his name if only to add it to my facial recognition of people to avoid when I went back to Boston. E. O. Keller; the first two initials weren't for his given name either, just a shortened title. He was an Enforcement Officer, which meant he was the Enforcer of the Enforcers. He was sent to keep me in line not the Leandros'.

Keller adjusted the fabric of his black jacket to both allude to a weapon being hidden there as well as revealing the bulk of a Kevlar vest.

"We asked Caliban for aid, he's supplying. It has nothing to do with the Vigil," I replied.

"He's a fugitive of the Vigil. Cavorting with him without detaining him—"

"I'm not an Enforcer," I interrupted. "I don't have the training and therefore don't have permission to even attempt to detain him."

"What were his crimes?" Georgina chimed in, though I wished she hadn't. My fiancé had the oddest urge to keep undermining my superiors and that never went well. "The Vigil is only supposed to imprison a non-human when its crimes saw it fit to be detained. Cal has never intentionally hurt humans. On the contrary he's saved our race several times."

The commanding Enforcer glowered at her and tried to lean around me for direct rebuttal. I wouldn't let him which left him scolding my shoulder.

"He is a danger. A bomb. The power at his disposal should not be his."

"It should be yours then?" Georgina argued. She pushed my shoulder back to get a good look at this guy's pockmarked, unnaturally tan face. "You don't see him fit for that power, even considering he's only used it to protect his family and _save _us. You feel it better in your hands where it can be abused."

She stepped out of my protection. Her eyes glittered with hard anger as she shook her mop of red curls. "I've seen that path. Trust me, your intentions might have been pure once, but in the end you will doom us all. Leave the past alone."

We all gaped at her for a moment, myself included. I hadn't known she'd looked into the future where the Vigil succeeded in using Caliban's power however they were trying. I didn't know if that was a recent glean or something she'd been holding onto, but it caused the Enforcers to glance amongst themselves like a priest just told them the end of the days was coming and not a priest they were giving much credit too. Most looked as if they would dismiss her claim for appearances, secretly fearing the truth of it and getting their affairs in order before the switch was thrown. And what did she mean by 'the past'? History repeating or was it more literal?

"Our seers say differently," Keller proclaimed with a lifted chin. His eyes shifted to me with that haughty expression. "Report your findings, Apprentice Dent."

"Excuse me?" I motioned to the classy building behind me. "Here? Right in front of their home, you want me to betray them?"

"You vowed allegiance to the Vigil."

"I vowed to protect the innocent and I did that in Boston, not in some poorly fronted lab where they think its okay to experiment without consent."

I grabbed George's arm and started down the sidewalk. The quartet of men clad in black already looked suspicious enough. I doubted they would try to apprehend us if only not to cause alarm among the humans milling about.

We didn't get far down the road, not that there was an over abundance of bodies cramming the sidewalks, even during the late dinner hour. We were stopped when Goodfellow stepped out of the alley behind the penthouse building and rested a comforting hand to George's shoulder. He gave her a fond grin and jerked his head toward the Vigil. "Let me take care of this, Georgie."

He'd obviously seen the Vigil giving us a hard time or maybe he'd given his lover a call and found out we hadn't arrived yet. Either way, he was coming to our rescue and who better to sweet talk our way out of a night in their interrogation room than a puck?

"Evening gentlemen," he cooed as he went around Georgina and me to start the show. "What brings you in your balaclavas out into the streets of Broadway? Taking in a show? I hear Choir Boys is playing at the Barrow Street Theater."

"Dent, freeze," Keller demanded, catching my attempt to steal away while Goodfellow had them distracted.

The puck gave me a wink over his shoulder to signal I should ignore that demanded the moment the opportunity arose. Then he swept his hand out casually to deflect the Enforcers' attention. I felt my skin crawl, goose-bumps scattered over my arms in a rush and my fingers instantly wrapped around the Beretta in its holster.

I assumed he had come from the wide, cobblestone path that led to the tiny courtyard behind the brothers' building. He had taken the back way out. He hadn't changed his clothes and his shirt wasn't a non-descript black tee like mine. His was one of those limited-quantity dress shirts that cost more than a year's rent at our apartment. It was striped too, thinly with gray between highlights of blue. Where the hell had Hob gotten that?

I glanced up at the tall building with dread, wondering if the 'good' puck was smeared across the floor and shirtless. Was Niko dead? Or did Hob need him alive for the sacrifice and he was locked unconscious in a Limo to important-looking to be asked to move from behind the complex?

Hob had mimicked Goodfellow to perfection, already having the benefit of looking exactly like him, but he hadn't had the time to slap on a fake henna tattoo across his wrist. And when his arm swept out, I caught a glimpse of that naked skin.

"I'm sure you realize how unwelcome your presence is. What do you insist on riling the boy? He's hardly stable…" I could hear Hob trail off as I snatched George's hand and started racing full tilt down the sidewalk. There was a woman getting out of a taxi at the corner of the street; if I timed it right I could get George in, swing back to fire a few rounds to either hit the puck or just cause some general chaos, then duck into the getaway car and go wherever the puck Goodfellow had been trying to send us.

If Hob had Niko, he had two thirds of what he needed. The last piece was my fiancé and I would be damned if death parted us before we even took vows.

I got to the cab, Georgina willingly dove into the backseat, and I spun around with my Berretta aimed. The silencer would do me no good this early in the night with streetlamps kicking light off it at odd angles. I understood why Caliban was so partial to weapons in black matte now; I'd though it was just a statement.

People scattered with short screams and flushed faces, but no one had noticed my gun yet. They were busy fleeing from the crazy guy with the short sword or staring agape at the bodies now sprawled out along the sidewalk. I hadn't even heard a gun report. Those men were trained…they were more experience and stronger than I was and they didn't even get off a shot!

"Josh!"

I ducked into the cab at George's plea, pulling the door shut as I went. A hand, sprinkled with a fine patina of blood caught the frame and my collar. I flashed a panicked look at the driver, who gawked at the whole ordeal with bulging round eyes. "Go!"

My shout was too late, but not in vain. The door was yanked from my grip and I was tossed onto the sidewalk, but the cab took off. Wheels spun out a foot from my head; I could smell the rubber burning as smoke stung my eyes. The cabby took heed my command and went with it with Georgina still inside. Fuck, I hoped he kept going until he hit Jersey.

I still had my Berretta, had already lifted it into a fall-away position as my shoulders hit the concrete. I had a clear shot as he watched the taxi peel away. I didn't take it. He would dodge and promptly kill me. I wasn't stupid to think otherwise, but I could distract him. I could let George get away.

The puck's chest heaved with a sigh, then his cast those sharp green eyes down on me.

"Did you kill them?" I asked.

"Them?" He echoed and slid his eyes toward the way we'd come. The Vigil van and the bodies he'd left behind.

"Not them. I don't give a shit about them. Goodfellow, Niko –did you kill them?"

Hob's lids hooded. "Hadn't the chance yet. I saw my little mice skittering away and had to attend to that first."

I used my heels to push across the concrete as he spoke, inch by abrasive inch pulling away from him. Hob smirked and just took a step forward eating the distance I'd crested between us. He tilted his head as he looked down at me, as if I were a puppy turned over, belly exposed. "That was intelligent to send her away. Where were you going?"

"Somewhere safe."

Hob's strong jaw twitched. "Human, there is nowhere safe from me when you take what I want." He reached down to grab me with no regard to the gun I held. It rewarded him with a bullet skimming by his jugular. It bled a bit more than sluggishly, but it didn't slow him. He hissed and got a hold of the front of my jacket. Lifted and slammed me against one of the nearby buildings and simultaneously cuffed my wrist in a manner than had the healing bone instantly snap like a twig. I cried out, my gun dropped to the ground.

Gritting through the new pain arcing up to my shoulder, I swung my good hand now equipped with a tactical knife and buried it…in the fabric of his shirt. Hob was fast. Too fast for my eyes to track and too experienced for me to parry; he telegraphed a kick with his left foot to my kneecap, but it was a punch to the side of my head that I felt. Quick and blunt. A ringing pierced my ear at the boxing effect. My blade caught his outer thigh with a wild swipe, but again it was superficial.

Hob crushed my hand under his. Twisted my arm so the muscles burned at the point of tearing, as he knew he wasn't getting the blade away from me.

"Goodfellow and the human are up there? Any others?"

"Go check."

He kicked out my leg, so he could pull the arm he had in his possession behind me in a position to break it. There were sirens wailing down the street, though I didn't see lights. Would this bastard attack human cops as readily as the Vigil? He wasn't on our Reg Flag lists as being fond of violence toward humans, but then again he was also thought terminated.

"Fuck, I'll go with you. Just get us off the street!" I pleaded.

"Is the freak up there? The Aupheling?"

"No," I gave in. I could see the blue and red lights now and a taxi cab with a familiar number was parked a block up. They must have circled the block at George's demand. "He went to trigger that trap you set. To get his son."

Hob snickered and hauled me onto my feet. "Thank you."

With that he tossed me into traffic. Luckily, everyone was moving at a crawl or pulling aside to let the cops enter the area, so when I was hit it was less than five miles an hour. I bounced off the hood and rested on the windshield without even cracking it. Almost a soft landing all things considered.

I figured it would end there; chucked out like a piece of trash, he no longer had use for. Hob would go up to collect his Romani sacrifice, kill his kin, and leave finding George for later. Nothing was so simple around Caliban Leandros, though. I was realizing this quickly.

The woman driving the car I'd been laid out on screamed, which she hadn't even done when I rolled into her windshield. Her tires squealed as she slammed the Camry into reverse. She only got as far as the bumper behind her, but it was enough of an impact to have me slide off the hood just as another body touched down.

I'd been holding onto the hot grill of the Camry for support, but seeing thick six-inch talons glimmering obsidian black sink into the steel frame like it was rice paper, I jolted back and onto my ass in the middle of the lane. The woman driver continued screaming, terrified by her new hood ornament. Her tires howled higher than her pitch again. I rolled onto the sidewalk before she full out ran me over to get away.

The creature didn't jump or even step off the hood as the Camry took off. It just wasn't there any more and in a blink it was crouched with six others surrounding Hob. Same sallow color as those white creatures that Cal called bae, Grimm's children, just as gangly with unnaturally long limbs, but these beasts seemed different. Somehow.

Not a smell or even much of a physical difference, but I knew. I'd been horrified seeing those bae for the first time and now I was face with the real monsters. The ilk that birthed Caliban, Grimm, and Castiella.

They were exactly how I imagined death would look appearing before you on the eve of your gruesome murder. Long limbs twisted over into a menacing crouch, skin so pearlescent it looked transparent over black veins. Unlike the bae, whose scales gave intermittent texture, there didn't seem to be a hair on their hides, save for the snow white filaments that dangled down from their scalps acting as hair, but not moving like it by any means. Their faces were vaguely reptilian and could only be confused with human at a long distance on a dark night with their mouths closed, because when they smiled… I shuddered. Needles, thousands of needle teeth the color of gunmetal lined their wide jaws. Made to force as much blood to the surface as possible with only one bite.

Their white-less red eyes were all trained on Hob at the moment, who –for his part—looked more irate than frightened. He actually rolled his eyes when their words scraped out of their guts like razors themselves.

"You lie, goat. Goat always lies," one hissed, circling behind him. I scooted back when it neared me. The road was cleared of traffic now, so I crouched behind the driver's side of a parked sedan.

"Should know better. You lie to us, no." That one was in the middle of snacking on a bit of fur that resembled the earlier Pomeranian. I hoped it was just a tawny, well manicured street rat.

A third hopped up onto an expired meter. Closest to Hob, it stretched out to swipe its claws at Hob's chest. The puck stepped back and tsked at the strange white…thing. None of them wore clothes, but I would probably throw up if I tried to study their anatomy for gender. Cal's mother slept with _that_? Willingly?

"Hob…goat, you said weak. You said stupid. You said fun. We lost too many."

"Not my concern. If you weren't strong enough to take down that sorry excuse of a fighter, then I overestimated the level of fear you should insight," Hob clipped.

"He bested you," the one on the meter hissed. It sounded like a taunt even with the grinding glass sounds roiling around in its throat.

"He got lucky," Hob snarled. "I gave him to you. On a silver platter with his son as garnish. Abraham would have seized the opportunity with less mistakes. My debt is paid, whether you succeeded or not."

I made slow subtle movements to get steady on my feet. Hand over busted hand, I crept my way down the sedan's length. Even with the chaos around it was probably noticed. People were flocking to the scene, no matter how much the police ushered them back. The blue uniforms had blocked off the road on both ends and were hiding behind their doors with shotguns and rifles out, but none attempted to intervene. Good, better for it.

They were waiting for commands and it would probably be received from the Vigil. The Vigil would say exactly what they tell new apprentices: stay the fuck away from Auphe, clean up the mess, not the monster.

I shifted to the pick up parked behind the sedan. The Auphe gnawing on the skull of the non-Pomeranian, shifted its attention to me for a moment. He grinned and sidestepped like an ape with the head speared on his teeth, toward me. I froze, re-gripping the tactical knife. I would not survive this. Not a snowball's chance in hell. I just hoped George was far enough away not to see every gory detail.

A small upstart between Hob and an Auphe that loped too close to his immaculate shoes saved me. It ended with the Auphe losing its head and the rest of them gating to different positions all around Hob. The puck pointed the poniard at the monster on the meter. "My debt is paid!"

"A debt, a debt. What meaning does that word have?"

Hob cursed in an ancient language long dead. "You have a memory of convenience, I see."

"We let you live. Your debt remains as long as your heart beats."

Something flashed in the puck's eyes. He didn't like that at all, but at least the dog-killer had lost interest in me. I glanced behind at the taxi. It was empty, but I could see the cops holding Georgina back behind the road block. She wasn't too happy about that either. The cabby was next to her staring in a way that spoke volumes on the non-human shit he'd seen and how it was clearly not of this caliber.

Hob and the Auphe were still arguing about debt and whether it was conditional in respect of success. All I took away from that was Caliban and his son were alive, or at least they killed a considerable amount of Auphe before they expired. I was banking on the former, which meant that Hob's plan – the one we had guessed where the puck was setting Cal up to get him and Dante out of the way so he could go collect Niko and George – failed. To be honest it was falling apart, partly thanks to the Auphe.

I made it around to a pick up truck, but was still in the peripheral vision of every last one of them. George had stopped struggling with the guards, holding on to the beefy arm of one heavily padded officer. She waved at me to take off running. Why I hesitated when a clairvoyant told me to run, I'd have to consult with my common sense later. Because it was just a few seconds of hesitation, but that was all it took.

A second's glance back to Hob and the needle-teethed albino monsters, a couple of seconds more see Caliban appear with his hooded son at his side a short sprint down the sidewalk. He could see Hob and the Auphe clearly in a nice little cluster. He didn't see me though and my seconds were up.

A gate split in the air like a ribbon horizontally in front of Cal and Dante. It stretched from building front to the center line on the street. I caught George's movement when I followed it at waist height in front of me. Her hand flashed amber cream in the red and blue flashing lights. Flat palmed and rushing toward the ground. Get down.

No hesitation this time. I hit the asphalt and rolled under the truck for good measure.

I could hear squeals of pain, the curse of Hob, the splatter and pat of blood and limb, but that didn't compare to the screech of metal scrapping metal, then the crash of the top of the truck's cab toppling to the street beside my shoulder. I pulled all my limbs in, curling up as my heart raced. Everything went quiet.

"Josh!" I heard Georgina scream. Her flat slippers slapping to the pavement as she ran; she must have gotten away from the cops. "Josh!"

"Shit, he was there?" Caliban called.

I rolled out from under the truck cautiously, checking my body over with relief to see all my limbs were in tact and attached, save for my re-busted wrist. George crashed into me, but I was prepared for that. I held her up against me with one arm, spinning about and trying to peer through red curls to see if the puck was still around.

I spotted one hacking down a straggler Auphe with Niko. A broad clash of his sword, which was not a poniard, allowed me to glimpse a dark mar on his wrist. I wasn't close enough to make out the details of what I hoped was a stylized feather indicating he was Goodfellow, but it was enough for me to trust him to the brother, while I got George a safe distance away.

The Vigil was on the scene now, roping off the street farther up and claiming a gas leak or a bomb threat. I just jogged over to the penthouse building and set George down next to Cal, who was catching his breath as he leaned against a lamppost.

"Though I told you to go to Ishiah, you idiot?"

"Though you'd wait to trigger the trap_ after _we got there, you fool."

Cal rolled his head. "Dick."

"Asshole."

"Stop it," Georgina scolded. With a sigh, both her hands gently cupped around my snapped wrist. I grimaced and regretted looking down in an instant. Something about not seeing it made it hurt less. The bone was sticking out, still covered by my skin, but bulging. Hob, my run in with the car, the dive under the pick up, any and all of the above could have done that damage. All I knew was without Katherine I wasn't going to be shooting dominant for another three weeks at least.

Another hand shooed George's away. Still listing into the post, Cal gripped my wrist hard at the bulge. "Don't bite your tongue," Cal instructed and flicked his own wrist to snap mine back into place.

I jerked away, so close to decking him in the face for that. Pretty sure, I called him something nasty as I spit out cursed in pain. He just grinned in amusement and probably a little schadenfreude. I cradled my wrist to my chest and glared.

His brother and the good puck came over to us once the last of the Auphe had high-tailed it. Cal shifted to stand. "Hob?"

"Gone," Dante answered, appearing from the shadows of the closest alleyway. His hood was up and he made sure to keep his face angled away from the Vigil. The kid dropped a severed arm clothed in striped gray and blue fabric at our feet. "Left this behind."

"I was hoping for a head," Caliban groused and nudged the limb with his boot.

I glanced back at the carnage and saw the truck's cab –along with a lamp post and the roofs of three other cars– had been shorn off as if by a massive laser. Some Auphe were in halves others in thirds in the same manner. I recalled seeing pictures of the damage those gate could do. This form of expulsion had previously only been assigned to Castiella's file.

"New trick," I murmured, more in observation than questioning. Cal was growing, learning and adapting to protect his limited family.

"I'm still a young dog," the half Auphe replied. "I can learn those."

"You look like shit."

He frowned and gave me a bland glare. "Why is the Vigil here?"

I shook my head. "Non-human brawl on Broadway before midnight? Why wouldn't they be here?"

He seemed to accept that explanation as my affirmation of innocence. "Let's go inside. Let them clean up this mess."


	19. Chapter Eighteen - Cal

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CAL

Yeah, if I looked as good as I felt it probably was like shit. My second projected gate, though steadier than the first, nearly had me black out. It was like being gate-neutered all over again without the blood spewing from my nose and ears.

I leaned into the corner of the elevator with my head resting against the cool surface. I hadn't enough brain cells at the moment to realize Niko and Robin hadn't joined us, and _then _I noticed that Niko actually let me take the elevator. So yeah, probably looked like a big pile of steaming Wolf feces.

"What the fuck were they doing here, Josh?" I asked. My eyes were closed but I could smell his sweat next to me. Promise had met us in the lobby and joined is us in metal box with us, so her lavender oils and Georgina's natural scent of cinnamon made it a little more bearable. And the sharp scent of Foxglove and shadows was just a shoulder's nudge away.

"I told you. They followed the sirens. The police would have called them in. It's protocol."

"The NYPD are aware of paien?" Promise questioned from the other corner of the elevator.

"Not exclusively. They know to report any odd occurrences. Deformed people attacking civilians, odd ritualistic kills, and unexplained states of a body. The explanation the Vigil gives is anything from a CDC investigation to cults."

The elevator dinged at our floor and we milled into the penthouse. I slogged my lethargic ass over to the leather chair and sank into it like I hadn't sat for eight weeks. Dante stood between the living room and kitchen, watching me but waiting for his next action to come to him. He was on his own, I couldn't even think for myself.

"What about the bodies by the van?" I went on. A glass of water was set down on the end table next to me. Apparently, Dante figured out common sense without me. Only it was common sense for a normal person; I would have rather a coke. He sat down on the coffee table like a worried mother hen.

"They were after me," Josh offered. I rolled my head back to watch him proceed into the living room. "I think. They were there to take me in for interrogation regarding you. You frighten them and they want to harness your power. If they could use the information they would demand to know what you ate for breakfast yesterday."

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing. You were aiding George and me with an issue not pertaining to them."

I snorted. "I doubt they bought that."

"Probably not, but Hob interrupted before I could determine if they were going to let us leave."

"Josh, we need to do something about your wrist," Georgina whispered, tugging on the sleeve of her fiancé's good arm. He glanced down at it and cringed like ignoring it had been less agonizing. I'd been there; it actually was less agonizing in a psychobabble kind of way.

The front door swung open to let Niko and Goodfellow in. On instinct, the huntsman leveled his gun on the puck, unwavering and cold.

"Truly?" Goodfellow complained. "I was with Niko all twenty-eight flight and I'm still in possession of my right arm." When Josh didn't retreat, Goodfellow undid his cuff with a sigh and brandished the feather tattoo. Josh, in turn, lowered his weapon.

"I apologize, Goodfellow, but he impersonated you with devastating efficiently twice now."

The puck snorted and raked a hand through his curls before heading into the kitchen. I eased back into my chair, listening to him clink around our liquor cabinet that was only stocked because of him. "Either he finds you interesting or useless to consider letting you live both times."

"I'll just count my blessings for good timing and a traffic jam," Josh countered.

I closed my eyes and willing the room to stop rocking like a docked boat. I could hear George force her fiancé onto the couch so Niko could look over and brace his wrist. My brother came over to me first, resting his hand to my head. "I'm alright, big bro. Just pulled my gating muscle."

He accepted my assurance and moved over to the human in need. I peeled my eyes open when Robin's forest-y musk became sharper and his shadow cast over me. The puck offered me a shot with a lifted brow and I took it gratefully. He had one for Josh too. The huntsman shot it back eagerly as Niko surveyed his busted wrist.

"You were fighting the Auphe at that abandoned bar?" Josh asked as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Obviously, he needed a distraction. We didn't have Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit, so twenty questions was the next best thing. "Is that the cause of you looking ready to pass out?"

I knocked back my own shot of the liquorish smoothness of Petron. Fuck, I didn't even know Goodfellow had shit that good here. It was a good burn, cleared my head a little. So did Josh's bark of a cry when Niko twigged his wrist.

"I'm not used to projecting a gate. Took a bit out of me," I said.

Josh was gritting his teeth. "Castiella seemed to have no trouble maintaining six in a ring formation around her body."

"Cassie is three thousand years more experienced, you douchebag. Besides you're not fairing much better and all you were face was a puck."

"I'm human."

"Tough shit."

Josh's reply was to cry out again, when Nik cut into his arm with a scalpel.

"Hold still," my brother demanded. "It's going to hurt, but it will heal faster."

I watched Niko used a needle to inject something under Josh's skin, possibly into the cracked bone. I assumed it was Nero's special salve, but I wasn't in the mood to ask. Whatever Niko was doing was pretty agonizing to have Josh doubled over and almost biting at the leather arm of the couch.

Georgina stooped down near his head, dusting her fingers through his hair and brushing the sweat that was beading away with a damp cloth. I debated giving her my glass of water, then noticed Dante was no longer sitting on the coffee table. I blinked and scoured the room. "Where the hell is my son?"

"Making sure your wife doesn't murder you for not contacting her about his or your safety. Or did you forget she is sequestered and waiting for a letter like a widow of war?" Goodfellow responded from the kitchen.

"Shit," I hissed and shifted to pull my phone out of my pocket. He was right. I should have called Cassie as soon as we walked through the door. "He shouldn't have gone alone."

"He gated. What trouble will he find?"

"He also has a tendency to wander," I replied. "And there's this mystery friend he still hasn't told us about."

Cassie picked up after the first ring. "You're an asshole."

"Dante?"

"He's here. We're coming home."

I closed my eyes and nodded even if she could see me. She could probably hear Josh whimpering though, at least until he passed out from the pain. "I'll see you soon then." I didn't want to fight her on this. Actually I wanted her home badly right now. "I love you."

About eight hours later, I was opening the front door to the oddest visitor yet.

As if we didn't have enough to deal with…

Hob was AWOL and pissed, even if injured, so he'd be back eventually. The Vigil hung out outside suspiciously close without any pretense of stealth as they had before –and now with a crime scene taped off on the street they had legitimate reason to be so close. George was on a guilt trip about glimpsing the future to save her fiancé from becoming cutlets from my projected gate. Josh was passed out on the couch and sweating, which made us worry a little about using Nero's magic paien Neosporin on a human. The Auphe were still out there –not going to roll myself up in a warm denial cocoon about that – and even with my new unlocked gate upgrade they could and would get the best of me the moment I let my guard down.

The only good thing about this day was that we all survived and we were all home. Cassie and Dante got back without incident, but they brought Ishiah with them. So even that silver lining was dull since our penthouse felt stuffy with so many pacing inside.

I took a nap to get away, figuring Josh had the right idea in making it all go away with some shut eye. When I woke up everyone else had hunkered down for the night with the exception of Promise and Cassie, whom I could sense and vaguely hear on Niko and Promise's side of the apartment. I wasn't surprised that they took first watch. Promise was used to being up around this time being the nocturnal vampire she was and Cassie wasn't about to rest when Dante and I were.

What surprised me was that neither of them moved to answer the persistent little taps on the front door of this side of the penthouse. That was when I though shit just couldn't get more bizarre. Now it was door-to-door sales paien proving me wrong.

A dusky-skinned kid stood before me with a large messenger bag slung over narrow shoulders. Actually he looked around my age, so I guess considering I had a teenage son, 'kid' was a bit demeaning. Maybe it was his small stature; he couldn't have been more than 5'7".

He stared up at me with wolf eyes. The kind of piercing amber that I usually saw on the Kin about town. The ones ill-bred and inbred to create the overrated All-Wolf. Honestly, everyone seemed obsessed with creating a supreme being –when would they learn there was no such thing and if there was it would sooner kill you than serve you.

His eyes were round in a lemur kind of way, surrounded by dark lashes and crowed with thick black eyebrows. I didn't smell Wolf on him; an experimental sniff brought about clay and earth like the bank of a flowing river. He tilted his head to the side like a puppy rather than a feral dog. "Hello."

"Unless its thin mints we don't want any."

A smile broke out on his face, as charming as Goodfellow's. "I prefer the Carmen Delights personally, but, no, I'm not a peddler." He unwounded his hand from the army-green messenger bag, the one that made me think he was about to pull out a magazine subscription to Playbitch or Better Homes: Abandoned Subway Edition. The hand stuck out for me to shake and I eyed the stubby, tea-colored fingers. His palms were calloused in a way that didn't match a farmer or swordsman.

"Riordyn o'Conaill. You must be Caliban?" He said it like the introduction wouldn't have me slam the door in his face. His charisma was in high-gear, but I'd dealt with charisma before. Hell, the creator of it was probably asleep in the guest room with Ishiah considering George was curled up in my living room chair next to Josh.

"What do you want?"

Those amber-yellow eyes, flickered to their corners; an indication that whatever was about to come out of his mouth would be a lie. "I was hoping Dante might be home."

The earth-smelling not-Wolf was against the far wall next to the elevator with my K-bar braced across his throat in the next second. I didn't say anything figuring the blade was enough of a statement. Riordyn o'Conaill, the darkest Irishman I'd ever seen, held up both hands in surrender. The calluses were a bit clearer to me now. It reminded me of a horseshoe, as if someone branded or tried to shoe a human hand. It wasn't swollen, just an ashy raise of flesh like an old scar.

"Caliban, I'm not here to hurt him. I'm here to help."

"You're the friend he mentioned. The one serving Hob?"

"I'm more freelance now," Rio countered, that smile almost returning until I forced the blade to bite his skin. "Alright, yeah, it was Hob. He leashed me when he returned from whence you tossed him, where he should have stayed."

"Hob is not on my short list of friends to invite to Dante's sweet sixteen."

"He's no friend of mine either. I can explain," but before he did, he paused tilted his head to the side again and asked, "he's not sixteen yet?"

I glared and asked a bit more slowly in case he didn't get it the first time. "What do you want?"

"I have a gift. I'd prefer to give it to Dante, but if you insist it's in the bag."

I did insist. I cut the strap off his shoulder, before returning the knife to his throat. It only half spilled onto the floor and I had to kick it to coax more than papers and sketch books out.

"Was that necessary? I liked that bag."

"I like my hand. Don't want whatever you have in there eating it."

"What do you think I'm bringing him? A Tribble?" Rio asked indignantly.

I kicked around way too many pencils and papers depicting everything from cityscapes and street candids to an impressively beautiful depiction of my son's profile that I would have to ask about later. Finally, my toe caught on something cold and metallic. I nudged it out, stared for a moment or two, then looked up at Rio.

"You steal this?"

He gave a half shrug.

"Where's the other one?"

"In the bag."

I pressed my bare foot to the bottom and could feel the simple, but sharp curve of a second circlet under the fabric. The motherfucker stole _both_ the Calabassa from Hob.

"You seem surprised. After the handicap you gave him it was easy." His yellow eyes fixed on each of mind in turn. "I owe you my freedom. For now, at least…bastard will probably regenerate in ten years."

I lowered the Ka-bar and stepped back from the scrawny paien. "What are you?"

"Púca," he answered without pause. Rio motioned to the mess on the floor. "May I?"

"Yeah."

I watched him stoop down to collect his things, then caught a whiff of Hawthorne behind me. It mixed with Rio's scent well; flora, clay, and wood.

"Everything okay?" Cassie asked. She held the doorknob in hand, full lips pursed.

"Yeah," I repeated. I picked up the crown I'd toed out of the bag and tossed it to her. "Special delivery. Could you wake Dante? A friend's here to see him."

"I'd say it's a bit late for a play date, but who the fuck am I kidding," she sighed. I watched her turn, leaving the door open, and toss the crown to someone unseen on the inside. When I passed through with Rio still scrabbling to collect his things behind me, I saw it was my brother Cassie relinquished it to.

The house would probably be waking with this news, but I kept my voice down anyway. "Nik, this is Rio O'Malley. He bought us Princess Diana's rejected tiaras."

"Riordyn o'Conaill," the púca corrected. Niko accepted his hand where I wouldn't.

"Niko." My brother assessed him as they shook. He was obviously unsure of him.

I dragged my own studying gaze over his small frame. Other than the calluses on his hands, his skin was pretty much unmarred and a mixed tone of several ethnicities like George. There was a strange mark on neck, though. A shock of white painted down the hairs from the base of his skull to his nape. Even the sparse hairs down his nape stood out against his light brown skin. His hair was shaggy and sable otherwise and it didn't look like a dye job either.

"What's up with the blaze?"

Rio wasn't at all offended, though he did touch the hair when I tapped my blade to his nape. "An apt name for it, but a blaze is usually on a horse's face." Taking a step away from me, he set his bag on the kitchen table, so he could tie the two sliced ends together. "It's just a birthmark. Even more predominant in my other form."

"Which is?"

"A colt," he shrugged again. "Or a small horse, I suppose. I'm passed colt-hood, but I'm not much more than sixteen hands; small stature runs in my family."

That explained the calluses…maybe. If he changed into a horse I assumed they were from walking around on hoofs. I'd only met one other púca, who –other than the dark hair – didn't much resemble this kid at all. At the time, I didn't care to discuss the attributes of púcas other than knowing they were mischievous and playful. Sometimes related to pucks in mythology, only púcas could transform like some Wolves.

"You turn into a horse?"

Thick dark eyebrows lifted. "Werewolf to canine, jackdaw to fowl. Púca have several forms, through certain lines are limited to each. I am capall, equine. Some are gadhar, some even fia."

"I don't know what any of that means."

"Horse, hound, deer," Niko recited.

"Ah, Dante!" Rio's face instantly brightened with a flash of white teeth and a glimmer in his amber eyes. I slapped a hand to the púca's chest before he could proceed in what looked like was going to be a friendly embrace.

The púca glanced over at me with a frown, but stepped back nonetheless. Fatherly instinct was not something he wanted to mess with.

"Riordyn," Dante responded with sleep in his voice. He rubbed his gray eyes as he walked around me and initiated the hug I'd interrupted. Considering his sluggishness, I doubted Dante even noticed my intervention.

"What are you doing here? Has Hob fallen or did you escape?"

"Unfortunately, Hob survived, but yes I was able to break free."

"That's good." Dante's pale hands dusted over Rio's neck with familiarity I wouldn't have expected even if they had met before. I also hadn't noticed the circle of chaffed skin looped like a necklace around Rio's throat. When he had said Hob leashed him, I hadn't interpreted that in a literal fashion. Those looked like a rash from metal shackles. Kinky…and disturbing.

"It's nothing," Rio assured, when Dante started prodding. "I'll heal."

"We have a salve," Dante murmured. He turned and slipped into my bedroom to get Nero's medicine out of the bathroom. Rio had been about to present the second crown to Dante from his bag when Dante turned. The púca chuckled at his distracted departure and handed the metal circlet to me.

"It's best if you take this."

I took it with the hand holding my Ka-bar. "I didn't know Hob was the kind of sick fuck that would literally shackle his unwilling toys."

Riordyn's eyes flickered to the carpet as a sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Púca are often associated with the pucks because they followed pucks like elders," Niko explained as he set crown number one on the kitchen island. "In some cases that created egomaniacal ambition in some of the pucks and they would manipulated that respect into a compulsive relationship of indentured slave to master. Hobgoblin would be the type to take full advantage of some púca families, laying claim on all descendants and demanding their servitude."

Rio tapped his nose to tell Niko he was dead on. "The o'Conaill family used to serve him willingly. Eons ago, before we were even o'Conaills. He abandoned us when he got bored, took up the chains again when it was convenient. Most of my family died in witch hunts and the few that remain well… don't feel particularly enamored with the old traditions."

Dante returned to the room with the salve and his mother in tow. She greeted Rio with a smile warmer than her previous attitude. "Hi, Riordyn. I'm Castiella."

"Pleasure," the púca replied, but couldn't shake her hand since my son dragged him back to the kitchen table and sat him down in one of the chairs. Dante silently started applying the salve with careful strokes. His expression was the usual blankness of high concentration, but the ease with which he touched Riordyn baffled me.

It took Dante days to warm up to our friends, almost a week after he came back from the Auphe to be comfortable alone in a room with his own uncle.

"So how'd you guys meet?"

"Ah, well. Hob caught me and my sister on the streets less than a week after he returned from the Auphe's Pit. He knew us instantly and knew he needed aid. At first, it was little things. Tests. Then he forced us to find the Calabassa that the Auphe hid on our plane to tease him. My sister died in the effort."

"Sorry to here that, but I didn't ask for your life story."

Dante shot me a glare for that. The most socially inept of us all and he knew that was a jack-ass line. Whatever. I didn't seem to phase Rio.

The púca took both of Dante's hands from his neck and eased them away. "The Auphe demanded Hob take care of Dante in the Pit, but now that he had one crown he didn't want to return to the Pit." He offered me one of those sad smiles. "There is not a soul touched with light that would wish to return there. Anyway, he commanded me to go, but by the time this decision was made Dante was falling ill in that atmosphere and he was brought here. I taught him a bit, but mostly…well, I was supposed to assist in his imprisonment, but I was selfishly trying to escape myself."

Riordyn paused and ruffled a hand over Dante's short spiked hair. "We were jail mates unseen, but not unheard. When he went to meet with Hob regarding the second crown, it was the first time seeing him face to face in six months."

He touched his own neck, marveling that the tortured abrasions were healed to nearly flawless mocha skin. Rio glanced around at the group that had gathered to this side of the penthouse. With a sigh, he stood from the table. "Thank you for the hospitality, but you are obviously full up right now."

George had roused during our conversation though it was only to sit at Josh's hip and give him a play-by-play of what was going on. Robin and Ishiah had emerged as well; they were holding back in threshold that led to the living room. It was their appearance that brought Riordyn to his feet. Three half Auphe, a ninja human, a seer, a Vigil huntsman, and a vampire didn't concern him at all, but the puck – as I assumed it wasn't Ish – was too much. I decided I didn't want to know what nightmares that face brought to the surface of the púca's mind.

"Thanks for the crowns," I responded, more than happy to have one less body in the house. It was beginning to smell like the mountains in here, minus the bear shit.

"Are you leaving the city?" Dante asked.

Rio drew to a stop at his voice. "Are you planning on finishing the job?"

I snorted. "With Hob? Certainly."

"Then no, I have no reason to leave the city. Let me know if you need any help."

"Will do," I answered. He didn't seem particularly strong or powerful or older than me for that matter, but we could use help against Hob even if it was cannon fodder. Worse came to worst, Dante and Cassie could ride his colt ass out of the fray. If my projected gate was my new ace, the asshole Hob knew it was up my sleeve and you can't cheat a puck, not twice.

Riordyn left the penthouse with a quick wave and a charming smile. I turned back to my family once he was gone, eyeing my son. "You going to tell me about that relationship or do I have to hear it from Goodfellow a month from now like last time?"

Dante gave me his patent knotted brow of confusion.

"Are you sleeping with him?" I wasn't an idiot; I saw they way Rio looked at him when he walked in the room and Dante wasn't that touchy-feely with many.

"No," Dante replied as if questioning his own memory.

"He didn't make it very subtle, did he?" Cassie mused from her spot leaning over the back of the couch; she must have been checking on Josh while we talked, because she had his wrist cradled gently in her palm. Check up done she released his wrist and gave a little wink to Dante. "He's cute."

"He's enchained," Robin interjected. "And the last of his line. The o'Conaills were Hob's, always had been. I had heard the last of them had died out decades ago. I suppose that rumor was as exaggerated as Hob's death."

"He's free," Dante countered in an argumentative tone. His arms were folded across his chest. This might have been the first time I'd ever seen him uncomfortable in a conversation. I was beginning to wonder if he had even gone to Hob to settle a debt; it sounded more like he had wanted to make sure his old cell mate was alive and well.

Goodfellow entered the room, crossing over to rest a placating hand to Dante's shoulder. "Until Hob is dead, Riordyn will never be free. That mark will always remain even if not visible, but we'll take care of that."

"So other than that," I asked, for the first…well, the second time in my life risking relationship advice from a puck. "A male púca?"

Goodfellow gave me a surly grin. "Which part of that are you emphasizing?"

"Púca," I said easily. Gender was the least of my worries when concerning my teenage son's choice of bed partners. Never really cared much about gender to begin with in that aspect; I just knew which one I preferred pretty early on and was done with the politics of it shortly after. If my son was gay, bi, straight who cared – hell, I dipped my toe into bestiality with Delilah in some people's books. Not that she was ever in wolf form when we had out reckless fun.

"Púcas are generally benign. They enjoy mischief and most of the pleasures you humans call sins as much as most paien, but need nothing from the human race to sustain themselves. A spurious rendition of magnificence of pucks, as if the higher powers just couldn't recreate our splendor, but generally benign," Goodfellow ran a hand through his curly hair. "Although I must point out that those Enchained are sworn to give the utmost loyalty to the one that chained them. If that means slaughtering its own family they are compelled to concede."

"Meaning he's not allowed near Dante until we kill the thrall."

Goodfellow shrugged. He picked up the crown on the counter and turned it between his fingers to inspect. "He brought you the Calabassa against Hob's will. Most enchained púca would not be able to rebel like that."

"What if he didn't?" I asked. I motioned to the room. "All three items from the Ark of the Covenant are here. You don't think that's convenient?"

"Even if he wished to gather the elements into one place and enact the ritual here using an unlikely courier…well, I doubt he would chance it. What with my prowess alone he would have no hope succeeding."

"Yeah, it helps he's missing an arm," I needled. "But I don't like basing things on chance, Loman. You're sure he wouldn't to that? Use Rio as a tool to get in the door?"

"It's possible, but unlikely."

I nodded and turned back to my son. "That means no Rio time until this is over. No secret meetings or back alley quickies and don't let him inside, okay?"

"Riordyn has never done anything for me to distrust him," Dante argued.

I lifted my eyebrows; he almost sounded like a kid being grounded and unable to go to the dance Friday night. Shit, they must have really bonded in lock up.

"Dante, just humor me here. We kill Hob and you can go find him and ride him like a rodeo –nope, I can't." I raked a hand over my face when my own mouth rattled out more gratuitous snark than my brain was ready to receive. I sighed and shook the images out of my skull. "Right, you can see him after Hob is dead. And you will tell me nothing about your…what you do. I think I'd rather hear it from Goodfellow for the time being."

"We haven't had sex, dad."

I held up a hand. Truth or not – and coming from Dante it was rarely not truth – I didn't want to know. Maybe later, but not now.

Every dad needed a little time to process that their kid was sexuality active with a guy that was literally a horse and possibly hung like one. "Later. For nor we need to find and kill a puck."


	20. Chapter Nineteen - Cal

CHAPTER NINTEEN

CAL

Puck hunting would have been a lot easier if there weren't twenty-six armed SWAT-wannabes waiting ever so patiently for us to leave the penthouse. They had evacuated the building with claim of a bomb threat. Niko listened as they ushered out the other suite on our floor –an old couple with old money that were both so deaf the Vigil had to break down the door. Funny, no one came knocking on our door to save us from the bomb. How incredibly rude of them.

It was a stand off outside, like a hostage situation at a major bank. There were black-clad men and women in the stairwells, guarding the elevators and exits, on the roof across the way. Police cars, Vigil vans, and –oh look, there was an actual SWAT vehicle. They lined the streets at a distance, armed and ready for the monsters to attack. Apparently, they got sick of playing nice.

All of them were probably armed with specialized weapons like that Rubicon Josh used against my distant relatives. Not that a bullet couldn't do the job if placed well with a quick draw, but I tried not to advertise that.

"Cal, please don't stand by the balcony. You're teasing the snipers," Niko intoned from his position leaned over his laptop at the kitchen table.

The penthouse was still overcrowded and it was grating on my reserve as quickly as a starved zoo tiger mauls the last shreds of its warden. Ishiah and Goodfellow had managed to leave before the fuzz quarantined the building with a fake bomb squad, so we at least had some contacts on the outside, which would be better if they were answering their phones instead of ignoring them so they could fuck like rabbits.

Regardless there were still seven bodies milling around, all weary and running on little sleep and even less tolerance. The ladies were eerily quiet as if monitoring the boyfriends like lab rats about to explode from side effects. Well, Promise was more focused on Josh and I as her lover maintained his calm regardless to the situation. I was currently safe, therefore he was currently zen.

Josh's wrist had healed nicely with the salve. This fever had broken only a few hours ago, but the huntsman was toughing it out next to Niko. He, obviously, wanted this done yesterday too. They were in contact with Salamandier; a group effort to figure out what happened to the status quo previously upheld by the paien-fearing Vigil bigots. I was more concerned with Hob. You don't leave a deer wounded, even a hunter knew that. Put that shit out of its misery. Or in my case, torture it a bit more for all the hell it put you through first.

I would have been delighted to vent some aggression by clearing out the Kevlar firing squad outside and head to our puck safari, but God and Buddha forbid we kill people trying to kill us because their chromosomes were human based.

"Why are we even bothering?" I asked, motioning to the computer. George watched me from the couch. Her legs were pulled up so she could wrap her arms around them. Her nerves were on edge and she looked like she was bracing for impact. That was never a good sign with a seer, but if our scion knew something she wasn't telling so I just didn't try this time.

"We know what happened. I killed a bunch of Auphe in a way not on my recorded list of attacks. It freaked them out. I'm more formidable and therefore executable." I threw my hands up. "Simple as that. Now may I gate out of this prison to find the one-armed bastard and finish the job or are you going to let me go Wild Bill on the way out the front door?"

Josh and Nik sported nearly identical expressions of deadened irritation, though my brother's was mixed with a dash of disappointment. "We can't murder a squad of humans, Cal. Despite their aggression it would only tilt the scales in creating another enemy for us."

"Hob threatened my family and attacked all of us, blatantly trying to feed Dante and me to the Auphe. I'm not waiting around for the A-minus Team to figure out organized attack on a half-Auphe is a bad idea. So you can get on your megaphone and tell them to leave or die, because I'm leaving and if shots are fired I don't care if their patron saints, their blood will paint the sidewalk."

"Cal, they know how to counter your gates. It's too dangerous to take the offensive with them. We need to know their tactics."

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Then we do it the old-fashion way. Guns blazing, highlander with grenades style. You always complain that I rely too much on my gates," I pulled the Desert Eagle from its shoulder holster and displayed it with the other hand like a fancy watch on The Price is Right. "Then let's go. I have a stack of two dozen grenades in cupcake boxes and a flamethrower ready for action."

"They are human."

I set my teeth and spoke through them. "They are insane and homicidal. Pretty sure that makes them monsters even if they came from chimps."

Josh lifted an eyebrow in an obvious way that somehow managed to call me a hypocrite without words. I shook my head.

"Fuck this," I snarled and stalked through the living room bee-lining it for the front door.

"Caliban."

I knew I'd be called back by someone and I'd been prepared to ignore my brother or even George, but the fem-fatale I shared a bed with? Something rational inside me decided her voice could cease my storm-out.

I spun and gave my lover a challenging raise of my eyebrows. If anyone should understand my determination to kill Hob and the Vigil and be done with it, it should have been mama lion. Cassie didn't look ready to send me off into battle with her blessing though.

"What?"

She hooked her finger to beckon me over. If her expression wasn't so soft with weariness I would have dismissed her authoritative demands too, but Josh's criticizing words that I'd been neglecting her were still in the back of my head and I hefted a sigh.

I crossed our apartment to the bedroom threshold where she stood. I doubted she'd been napping for the past half hour like she said she was, though she had been hidden away in there, like Dante had in his; on his computer, no doubt, plugging away for answers same as Niko or looking for Hob's soft spot where a blade could fit in just right.

"I can't wait around anymore."

"I know, come here." She pulled me into the bedroom. As she shut the door she addressed the room. "Sorry, for this."

"For what?" I asked. She locked the door too. "Are you going to beat me into submission now? Scream a lecture at me? Now is not the time, Cas."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. She peeled off my jacket one arm at a time. "What do we normally end up doing when 'it isn't the time'?"

Both my eyebrows shot up at that. She nimbly unhooked the shoulder holster and the leather and gun were eased to the floor. She was only wearing a little slip of a sundress, one she normally wore to sleep in…when we bothered with clothes. Her cleavage nearly poured out of it. Her fingers were already coasting under my shirt to raise hairs on my bare flesh.

"This is your solution? Hob is out there devising another plan to toss us to the Auphe without getting his one good hand dirty, the fuzz is outside two seconds away from an air raid, and you want to have sex?"

"You're anxious. It's doing no one any good. I get it, but when your enemy knows all your tricks you have to wait for opportunity, surprise." That last word was spoken in time with her shucking the dress. I bit back a smirk. "So my solution is to wear you our so you don't do something stupid and reckless."

Cassie shoved me hard and I went tumbling back. Too far away to hit the bed, but she didn't seem to care as she straddled me on the lush carpet.

"Now let's go at it until you pass out and then you can sleep through the boring part of recon."

Part of me was annoyed with her shameless manipulation. A small part. A part that promptly shut up when she yanked my pants to my knees and bent down quite a bit more south than for a kiss.

I dropped my arm over my eyes, caught between laughing and moaning. Now I knew why she apologized to the room, the minx.

Castiella was true to her word. After several tumbles on various surfaces of our room I felt a lot less anxious. Meaning I passed out for a while in sated exhaustion as she promised. So satisfied and calm, in fact, that I didn't wake until I felt the knife sink into my chest.

I grunted as a hand covered my mouth, like a professional hit. Keeping me quiet, sliding a three-inch blade right into my heart. Only it didn't go as Leon the Professional planned. An impressive spray of blood splashed over my front. Considering his blade hadn't gone far enough in to even knick an artery, I knew the red paint job slapped across my face and chest wasn't mine. The knife was still imbedded, as the assassin yanked back with a curse and a hiss. There was a vicious growl beside me. Cassie's weight shifted over me, bracing like a lion ready to pounce.

All this happened in the time it took me to clutch the gun hidden under my pillow, open my eyes, and aim around Cassie's shoulder.

Leon was some schmuck dressed in SWAT gear back pedaling from the bed with a small throwing knife sticking through his wrist. He had an M4 carbine he swung around from his shoulder, only able to hold it in one hand. It limited his control and aim, but he wasn't alone.

The downfall of screwing so hard you can't think was that both of us slept so soundly, we let six stealthy Vigil sneak into out bedroom. Hell no, unless I was drugged that was impossible. There were too many people in this house too attuned to the presence of others. I surveyed the bedroom and the men monitoring us. My head felt fuzzy and my chest burned, not just from the knife in it. Half the guys were also still in balaclava and gas masks.

They gassed us. And I was sure their ability to get in at all had something to do with the fact that Hob was propped up in the open threshold of our bedroom.

My heart thudded. Where was Niko? George? Shit, Hob had all three pieces now and he did exactly what we though he wouldn't to get them. Because he didn't have to risk fighting all of us. Ish and Robin were out and he had a platoon of armed humans ready to take out the building to get to me and Cassie…and Dante. Had they seen Dante?

I didn't lower my gun, but I also didn't fire like my finger itched to. My upper lip pulled back as I focused on Hob. "Where are they?"

"These men were kind enough to help transport our friends to safety," Hob replied. His voice was different, the cadence softer and more playful. It sent a shiver up my spine. So did the fake expression of anguish he sported a moment after. "I hate that it has come to this, Cal, but you and Cassie…we just can't control you anymore. It breaks my heart."

He touched his remaining hand to his bandaged stub of an arm. My gate had cut it halfway up his bicep. "If you can wound a friend as dear as me like this without hesitation. Well, I must take your brother away before you before you do something you'll regret."

"What?" I snapped. I placed a hand on Cassie's arm to ease her off me. She obediently crept back, but not without yanking the blade out of my chest. I cringed, but it didn't seem as deep as I'd originally though and Cassie was trying to keep it that way. I was burning with so much rage that I barely felt it.

"You're trying to play Goodfellow?" I swung my gaze around to search for the ring leader among the squad of humans. I spotted him, slightly removed from his team, with a Glock strapped to his hip and something giving off a green light in his fisted hand.

"You're stupid enough to buy that? He's not Goodfellow. He's Hobgoblin."

"Cal," Hob said gently even managing a sad puppy dog look that would have convinced me should I not have dealt with this dick before. "Hob is dead. You killed him yourself years ago…"

"Fuck you," I hissed, not even bothering to look. He had my brother. He had George. He had the Calabassa and all of that with armed escort in human disguise. The leader had a steady glare on me anyway, so I spoke to him. "He wants to kill my brother and steal George's clairvoyance. I doubt a puck with clairvoyance is a good thing in anyone's book. If you want to take me out try it, but do not take my family where he wants them. Call Ishiah. _He's_ with Goodfellow."

The carbines and MP5s didn't lower. As much as I didn't expect them to believe me, why would they trust a puck? Lying was the first thing they put on their resumes.

I'd had enough of this. I grabbed Cassie's arm in preparation to gate, then I noticed with dread that those tuna can blue lights were blinking around us on all four walls of the bedroom. The wires were already out, webbing out and caging us in. They weren't turned on, they weren't red yet, but I knew what happened when they were.

The human ring leader allegedly in charge held a remote. That green light managed to light up his name patch like it was made of metal. His name was Ringer, fucking ironic. He already had his finger pressed down on the trigger, which meant releasing it would send the net to electric shock status. Which meant killing him would do me no good. That didn't mean I couldn't gate us out of here before the net was lit up.

I grabbed Cassie's arm.

"Don't," Ringer warned with a sharp bite. He lifted his glowing fist. "This isn't for the Rubicon, Aupheling. This is a killswitch. Try to attack, try to gate…even if you're quick enough, where ever you end up brain matter will be splattered all over the walls."

I glanced over at Hob to make sure he wasn't going anywhere, before bearing my teeth at the human running the show for the moment. "What's the range on it? Fifty, five hundred miles?"

"You are welcome to risk it, but short of taking a trip to your homeland I doubt you can dodge this satellite."

I pulled Cassie closer to me, the sheet pooled around our bare bodies, but for once I wasn't concerned about her showing herself off for company. I couldn't go to Tumulus, not after the High Noon battled we just had. And if that was the only option, we were screwed because I doubted Ringer was bluffing. I doubted the Vigil was bluffing.

"Why would you kill Cassie?" I challenged, trying for the Flop anyway. "You need her to pop out your weapons of mass destruction that will turn on you and probably take out the world in spite."

Ringer grinned, showing off an out-of-place gold capped incisor. "It's not in the Harbinger."

I stiffened and beside me Cassie sank back on her legs that had previously been coiled under her to spring. Her whisper was small and heart-breaking, the kind you hear on Lifetime movies when someone is diagnosed with cancer. "No…how?"

"Implanting the Gleipnir module on the Aupheling would have been too obvious. At the time the chapter was hoping to recruit Niko Leandros as well. We never intended to keep his little brother, but that didn't mean we wouldn't set up a contingency plan." The Vigil asshole unwrapped his fingers from the remote to show off the contours and flashing lights. It looked more like the newest game console attachment then a detonator that would explode my brain.

"Can't say big brother will be too happy about this either."

"The killswitch was implanted in you, because we don't need you. We didn't need to control you. We just needed to be able to kill you any time, any place, when you've become useless…or crazy."

"He's not Goodfellow," I repeated.

Ringer panned his narrowed eyes over to Hob, who was obviously getting sick of the act. His mouth had shifted to its more Hob-like grimace of annoyance. "He amputated my arm with a weapon no creature should have in their grasp and killed your men without remorse."

"_You_ killed their men."

"Even if you choose to listen to his delusional ramblings just assure that you will not let him near his family. He will only hurt them."

I lifted the Desert Eagle vertical, pulling my finger from the trigger in surrender. "He wants to take me out so it's easier for him to get what he wants. Let me emphasize: Deviant Clairvoyant Puck."

"Kill him now and all this is solved," Hob went on with a shrug.

"Really?" I snapped back. "Five years and you think Goodfellow would just toss me under the bus like that?"

Two of the MP5s pivoted to the puck in my bedroom threshold at the flick of Ringer's finger. Finally, they triggered a few brain cells in those lumps three feet above their asses.

"I'd ask you not to move and keep your…hand in plain view," Ringer said. And he wasn't even trying to be funny. He tilted his mouth toward his lapel, either talking to himself or some sort of unseen microphone. "Smith, come in." There wasn't any audible response, but apparently there was one in the black bud in his ear. "Reroute the Delta team to Landsand safe house. Wait for instruction there."

Finger still on the remote, Ringer leaned down and plucked Castiella's sundress off the floor. He stood closer than most would dare to offer it to her. "They will be protected from him and from you. The Harbinger will be coming with us."

"I'll go with you," Cassie agreed. Still with that dramatic waver in her tone. She pulled on the dress and shifted to get off the bed. I hooked my arm around her waist, anchoring her to me. "Cal, I can't let them—"

"I can't let you," I argued. I motioned for Ringer to toss me the jeans at his feet. He obliged with a raised brow. "Don't give me that look. I'm getting fucking sick of you assholes keeping us separated."

I shimmed on my boxers first since they were hanging off the bedpost near my head, then took up the jeans. It was a prime time for them to try and shoot me, but considering they hasn't opened fire or pressed the red button I assumed recruiting Niko was still on their to do list. Carving out my heart as I slept could have been blamed on anyone, including Hob or Grimm, but my head bursting open like a watermelon with traces of a bomb mechanics inside was on them and the Vigil didn't want to make that many enemies unless they had to.

"You have Grimm, right?" I wrestled a tee shirt over my head, while six guys with guns watched. It was a little more uncomfortable then the throb in my chest from the knife, though not by much. "Project Charlemagne, or something? You healed him, have him loosely caged, and think he'll actually let you control him, right?"

"You doubt us? We are controlling you right now."

"See the thing is you always think you have control." I tossed the Eagle on the bed; they wouldn't have let me take it with me anyway. "But then we get bored of playing your game. And then your men die. And your buildings explode. And all your hard work inside your screwed up labs goes up in flames. Have you failed to see the pattern yet?"

"Cal," Cassie slid across the bed to stand beside me. Her hands pressed to my chest, one deliberately on the wound, both to stanch the meager blood flow still dripping and to snap me to my senses with the pain. "Stop it."

I knew the warning for what it was. They had the means to kill me in an instant and they wouldn't hesitate if I fucked this up. I cupped Cassie's cheek and gave her a hard kiss, imploring her to trust me without words.

"Grimm, though," I said getting back on track even as my gaze was locked onto her mahogany eyes. "He's your plan, isn't he? Recapture Cas and let that monster fuck her?"

"Are you offering a better plan?" Ringer asked.

"Sir," one of the minions behind him cut in. The commander glanced over, then toward the doorway. There was probably a collective curse popping up in everyone's head because the threshold was empty; Hob was gone. Ringer glared at the two idiots that had been holding their aim on the puck, I glared at Ringer.

"We'll take care of that."

I snorted. "Sure you will."

"Your proposition?"

"I go with her. I'll be your breeding stud, just don't give her to him."

Cassie watched me with a calculating look. She knew my words were a lie in the form of a gun loaded with C4. I wasn't surrendering. I was buying time. But some of my time was just shaved off with that narcissistic dick being gone. I needed this moron's finger to disengage the killswitch so I could get the hell out of here and save my family and possibly the world…again.

"So if we are in agreement I need to point out that Hob is still going after my family. He might get there before you 'take care of that'. Can I call the real Goodfellow before we go? Tell him to go fuck up his doppelganger?"

Ringer jutted his chin out to another soldier in one of those manly nods, then switched back to glaring at me. "We'll contact Ishiah Cheris. When he arrives, your brother and friends will be relinquished to his care."

Yeah, they clearly didn't want to piss off Niko if they were buying my shitty, heart-of-gold, act. "Yeah, good. Might want to get on 'taking care of' the one-armed puck too. He's trouble."

"Noted." Ringer flicked his thumb across the remote. I cringed and waited for everything just to go black. Instead, the green light blinked twice then went out. Cassie dropped against me, curling against my chest and burying her face to my shoulder.

"A little warning next time if you're not planning on blowing my head off," I growled. Ringer smirked, which was fine. I spoke to distract him from Cassie slipping my Ka-bar under the waist of my jeans and flipping my shirt over the handle.

"To be honest, the heads of the Nephilim project always wanted you," Ringer said, pocketing the slim remote and taking up the Glock. It was modified. The barrel much wider than even a .45 caliber. Whatever was loaded in that chamber would either easily push an orange-sized hold through my chest or was something else entirely—probably gate related.

"Psychological profiling deemed you not a good candidate."

"Psychological profiling? With that you pick Grimm over me?"

"Your attachments to the outside world make you a flight risk. The other one doesn't have those attachments. He has been given what he needs."

"Right, control over a huge group of idiots that have no clue he will slaughter them all when he gets bored. Yeah, that's exactly what he wants."

Ringer leveled the hand cannon with my chest, jerking it toward the doorway. "Well, then if you remain obedient we would have no use for him."

"He have a killswitch too? Cause if so I'll do your laundry for a month if you let me press than button."

Ringer didn't twitch a facial muscle for my joke, but waited patiently for Cas and me to file out of the room. Cassie hugged close, which was better than the alternative of her trying to leave me. She has a history of running off when my life was on the line because of her, but we'd come a ways from then.

She whispered low to keep the men from hearing, almost too low for my human ears to catch, but the language was one that immediately set my teeth on edge and tuned my entire nervous system to hyperaware. It was Auphe; usually a horrifying series of hissed and garbled sounds combined with nails and razors down glass, but when spoken that softly and gently it almost sounded like ambient-industrial music.

_I will not let them take you,_ she promised.

I turned my head to kiss her crown of disheveled hair. _Then help me kill them all._

Castiella frowned, concerned for the possibility they would kill me while we attacked clear on her round face. She pulled away from me when the barrel of a carbine knocked our shoulders apart and one of the goons demanded we stop speaking in the devil's tongue.

I snickered, but let Cassie stand a foot away in the elevator. Her dark eyes caught mine and her eyebrows arched toward the douchebag that separated us. She wanted me to start something. I was itching to and if they hadn't killed me for drawing a gun on them, they weren't going to bust open my brain for a scuffle.

I stepped into the guy's space, bearing teeth and hissing out a few Auphe words that didn't make a lick of sense. He grew increasingly nervous when I started into the lyrics of 'Born Free'. He couldn't pull up his rifle in the enclosed space without shooting his or one of his brothers in black in the leg. So he just tried to muscle me back, shoving me into every one else. Another guy rested a knife to my throat dark skin creasing around his eyes in a scowl—no, sorry, hers. Damn, that was a big woman. The jostling of bodies stopped and I was yanked out of the elevator first and by the lack of scuff on my neck.

We were outside before I could even catch a glimpse of Cassie behind me, which just made me fight harder to tear away. There were a few shouted commands, then a sharp blast caught the back of my knee. For a horrified second I thought Ringer's cannon had just karmatically made me an amputee.

The impact vibrated up to my hip, my veins felt as if they started circulating anti-freeze from toe to thigh. I fell to my knees, which both seemed attached to shins and feet, and tore out the Ka-bar from my jeans to jack whoever dared to come near me in the eye. It was satisfying enough when I did it to an Auphe she-bitch might as well try it out on a human.

Ringer decided he wanted to have another go, snapping the gun he'd shot me with across my jaw. "Calm yourself, unless you would like to know how a pumpkin in a microwave feels."

"The fuck," I hissed. My leg was completely numb and it crept dangerously up my thigh at a steady rate. I remembered this feeling. "Did you just shoot me with Bae poison?"

"Grimm has given us a few tricks to play with. It is a sufficient paralytic."

"God damn, you assholes are crazy. It's used to stop a heart!"

Ringer grinned, proving my point. He reached into his pocket to pull out the remote again. I was acting like a rodeo horse being lassoed so I didn't blame him. The funny part was when his sadistic, gold-toothed smile dropped like a weight from his face. He patted his other pocket, then another. Soon he reared up from his crouch over me. Behind him I could see Cassie with a thug attached to each arm. Her hands were empty, but I still knew. Living with a thief like Robin for a thousand years had to teach you a thing or two even if by sheer absorption.

She must have fleeced the detonator in the elevator while I distracted, maybe dropped it in a gold-potted plan on the way out of the building. Point was they didn't have their brain bomb and Cassie was rolling her shoulders, ready to fight.

"Missing something, slick?"

Ringer lifted the gun on me, but paralyzed didn't mean immobile in my case. They'd left the Rubicon at the penthouse with Leon the Wounded Professional and some other Vigil twit. Not a smart move.

I traveled behind Ringer and slammed my Ka-bar into his nap, caught his spine and down he went. Eye for an eye mother fucker. Pilfering his gun before he dropped I swung out on one foot and shot one flunkie in the chest, while exploding the guy next to Cassie with a gate. Both deaths were quick, one was just a bit messier. Not that the shithead on Cassie's right had it much better screaming as she ripped her talons down his front from sternum to groin.

The rest of the squad opened fire a second later. It didn't help that we were in full view of the previously stationed units outside. I dodged and weaved behind cars, avoiding laser sights, taking one sharp shot in the shoulder. I felt a tug on my numb leg too, throwing my hop off balance.

I crashed into Cassie instead of collecting her, and gated to Katherine's. It wasn't until we hit the floor of the vamp's private practice lobby that I felt Castiella convulsing.

"Shit, Cas!" I hopped off her, lifting her by her shoulders. She usually handled traveling better than this even with the module. "Cas, you okay?"

"Th-there shutting me d-down," she told me, her teeth chattering like a hypothermia victim. I pushed the hair out of her face. I could feel the heat generating off the mod implanted in her neck. Katherine's assistant was gawking at us from behind the front desk. "It's okay were out. I'm here."

"The r-remote."

"Where's the remote?"

She gave a twitchy lopsided smile. "Nowhere c-c-omfortable."

It took me a minute. There were very few places she could hide it wearing so little. Then my eyebrows shot up and I glanced down where legs met body. "Seriously?" The remote was small enough to make that possible, but how had she even managed that maneuver in the elevator?

Cassie shifted, seized, then went limp in my arms.

"Shit! Katherine!" I shouted the name down the tiny hall. The healer vampire only had three exam rooms that I'd seen. Maybe the surgery was down in the basement, but I was banking on her being behind door number one, two, or three.

I cradled Cassie in my arms down to the exam room that had more of a scent than sterile cleaners. Hands full, I kicked the door. The assistant stared at my back, not even attempting to stop me. "Katherine. I could gate in there, but it would be much more satisfying to breaking down the door!"

A second later the tall, wispy brunette swung open the door with a glare that could melt a car tire and succubae blood staining her white coat with speckles of blue. Her hands were gloved and dyed the same, though judging by the amount of blood no one's life was in danger.

"Despite your belief, Caliban, you are not the center of," she stopped, seeing the blood and pieces of…well, human covering both of us. There was barely a patch of pale skin left on Cassie and I could only assume I looked the same. "Is she wounded?"

"Nothing substantial. They knocked her out with the module again."

Katherine nodded. "No need for panic then, she and the baby will be fine."

"I need to leave her here."

Katherine didn't ask a single question. Her jaw tightened and she pressed to her toes to see her assistant over my shoulder. "Anna, take Castiella down to the recovery room. Lock the door, bring me the key, and forget what you had just done."

Anna hastened up to me, offering her arms to take Cassie. I allowed the transfer with a meaningful look that I would murder her, human or not, if she hurt my lover. Anna seemed to know what I was, so she would believe that threat.

"Careful with the remote."

"What remote?"

I pressed my lips together. Despite the fact that I knew Katherine had a couple of PHDs under her belt, I couldn't say it. "You'll know it when you see it. Just don't press any buttons on it okay?"

"Fine. Now get out." Katherine slammed the exam room door. I only waited only enough to see Anna struggled to get Cassie onto a gurney, then wheel her to the service elevator. When the doors closed, I gated to the panini place Niko and Dante loved a block away from where the Vigil had cordoned off the road.

Leaned back against the brownstone, I tried to will my leg to feel again. Walking in Katherine's practice had been like stomping on a peg leg. I couldn't face Hob like this; I had barely been able to carry Cassie like this. Blood had reached my boots from the bullet I took to that leg. Still couldn't feel it, but inspecting the holes assured me the through and through hadn't nicked anything important…well, just a little muscle.

I needed to find Hob or I needed to find my brother. Either way I couldn't wait around to feel better.

I stared at the black sedan parked at the mouth of the alley I took cover in. A sleek black Charger. There was an officer standing at the police tape, plain clothes so I couldn't tell if he was Vigil or NYPD. The Charger's driver's side door was open, the interior dinging because the keys were left. I'd never actually stolen a car before, but you know…there was a first time for everything and might as well take training-wheel theft out for a spin before I went garage code breaking hardcore.

I gated into the driver's seat, pulled the door closed and peeled out of his illegal park job. Sorry copper, I got shit to fuck up.


	21. Chapter Twenty - Cal

CHAPTER TWENTY

CAL

It took the small army, still canvassing the block as if I didn't have a magical disappearing act that they hadn't already seen forty times, surprisingly little time to start up a car chase after me. I'd never really been in one of those either. It was pretty thrilling, not going to lie.

I fish tailed onto Broadway to the sound of civilians screeching out of my way. A trail of flashing lights and black sedans coasted after me like I was hauling the Times Square Christmas tree behind me. On the straight away of 57th Street with other cops blocking traffic to keep the destruction to a minimum on the side roads, I floored it as far as the Charger would go. The V8 roared as none of Nik's cars ever did and I nearly got a semi when it raced up my back.

There had to be a grin on my face. A little boy acting out when his big brother wasn't around to tell him no more than ten miles over, no more or the cops would get you. Fuck da police. I was going to see what kind of tunes I could crank up to set the mood, but figured I should probably make some calls first.

The Charger had one of those mini computers cops had nowadays, but this one looking more high tech even for the NYPD. If I had a chance to lose the parade of idiots behind me I would have tried my hand at some hacking skills, which I severely lacked, but considering I was flying down 57th at 98 mph, I settled for punching one of the few numbers I'd memorized.

No answer on Niko's cell, which either meant he was spirited away knocked out on nerve gas or he was in the middle of a chase of his own. I dialed another not as readily available in my memory bank, then nearly spun out as I swerved to avoid taking the Queensboro bridge, clunking over a median to get on FDR drive.

This caller one picked up and a generic, telemarketer voice caroled over the line, "Smith and Grubber Technical Facilities. Sal speaking."

"Sal, it's Caliban."

There was a pause. I could hear the clack of keys over the speaker phone. "Caliban. Are you currently in a stolen vehicle marked Charlie Foxtrot Tango 8394 driving 97.873 miles per hour on FDR Drive?"

"No, I'm picnicking in Central Park," I snapped. The cops weren't blocking the side roads as well here. I had to practice my evasive maneuvers to keep from plowing through a few cars legitimately following traffic laws. "Landsand safehouse! Now!"

"Hold on."

I clenched my jaw to keep from snarling at Salamandier again. His 'hold on' was usually a lot short than most people's 'wait a second'. I was also concentrating on not flipping the Charger.

"Wrong direction," he told me. The computer next to me pinged and a GPS map popped up. He'd just jacked a cop computer in seconds. "Turn right."

I did. The tail of the black muscle car tagged a light post with the sharp movement. It jarred my entire body and left me grinding my teeth through the pain to my side. My leg was tingling like a million fire ants were gnawing their way up to my knee. It was a good sign; all this adrenaline was rushing the poison out of my system quicker than last time. Or maybe the Vigil had been smart enough to dilute it.

"Stay with me, Sal. I need you to monitor that safe house. Tell me if you see a puck with one arm skulking around."

"Your brother's there and Josh…they don't look coherent. Lined up on the sidewalk in front. They aren't planning a firing squad, are they?"

"You're the one with the link to their plans, Sal!" The GPS told me to swing down 2nd Avenue and hang a right at 3rd Street. It was over shooting Washington Square Park, but by the little checkered flag that was my ultimate destination. I missed the turn on 3rd Street on purpose and headed toward lower east Manhattan.

"The damsel Promise seems aware, but the humans look lethargic and disoriented. Drugged?"

"Yeah, drugged. Shit!" I peered out the side window through the gaps in the skyscrapers whizzing by as another layer of screwed just slapped down on this clusterfuck. I swerved onto Williamsburg Bridge squinting at a big bright and red rising sun. I yanked the wheel into the center lane on the eastbound side. Cars were nearly climbing on top of each other to get out of the way while still making their morning commute. "Is Promise in the open?"

"Shaded, but already burned."

Fury took over my driving foot, taking us up to 105. One wrong move and I was probably off the side of the bridge taking a few innocent people with me. "My son?"

"Not present…but the puck is. You're still going the wrong way, Caliban."

"I know. Arm or no arm?"

"He is missing an arm. He…well, he seems to be killing the Vigil members on guard with delight."

"No fair, I had dibs first," I deadpanned. I didn't have a lot of time. The lights were still whirling in my rear view. Sirens screamed over the purr of my stolen V8. There was a spot cleared just at the end of the bridge where two cars had pulled over apart from each other. There were several car lengths between them as they watched the car chase like it was the filming of a new street-race action movie.

I aimed for the bare guardrail. It was high for the explicit purpose of me not doing what I was about to do. There was a good chance the car would just flatten to the supports like a pancake, but that would work with my plan just as well. "Sal, I'm checking out. Keep on them. If we don't make it, then you sent that footage to Goodfellow and Ishiah, got it?"

"Good luck, Caliban."

I faked losing control of the Charger, could almost hear the gasp from the witnesses as they watched the black car slam the support to become the sides of a mini cooper, then careen over the railing to plummet into the water far below.

I was out before the front bummer even kissed the guardrail like a freight train to a mountain. No action hero swan diving off the bridge for me. Nah, I just gated to the tiny mound of over-growth that was North Brother Island, then gated to the Dim Sum place four blocks from Landsand safe house on 8th and University.

The cook looked at me for a moment from over his shoulder, then went right back to his piss in the urinal. I had to believe that paien were a lot less subtle in China, because very little phased the immigrants from that country. I pushed out of the bathroom, and slipped out the back door through the kitchen.

I jogged to the next street and peering around the corner of the strip. I could see a black van parked several blocks up. A few humans were gathered near the front of that building, pushing onto toes and rocking back and forth to get a better view of whatever horror movie, samurai slasher scenario Hob was displaying. Kill Bill Vol. 3, no doubt.

Despite the gun shots, there were no cop cars. Most of them had been chasing my decoy car off the bridge apparently. One usually didn't see mounted cops this far down from Central Park, but I supposed they took what they could get stretched as thin as taffy across jurisdiction. There were four of them, cautious and fearful to proceed to where the mayhem was exploding. The horses seemed even less anxious to check out the party. One dismounted off his brown horse and reached for his service weapon.

I gated three blocks and sprinted one so I could bull-rush him to the ground before he could breach the alleyway behind the safehouse. He cold-clocked himself on the asphalt. The other Mounties had guns trained on me. "He didn't want to go down there."

Not that it made much of a difference; the fight was coming to us.

Four men armed and in riot gear from head to toe backed out of the alley that wrapped around the seven story safehouse posing as an apartment complex. Their assault rifles were raised to their shoulders and their commander was signaling to fall back as he dragged a fifth guy by his Kevlar vest, who was missing a leg from his knee down.

"What's going on?" I snapped. A rifle swung into my face and I batted it away. "Don't fuck with me. What's going on? Where is my brother?"

The commander lifted the blood splattered visor on his helmet. "The puck went hostile. Three of my men are down."

"Why did you keep them outside?" He looked at me like I'd just asked him what he had for breakfast six months ago. "Your hostages, you asshole. What were you planning? To keep them safe or shoot them in the street?"

This commander looked like he inherited the position all of six minutes ago. He knew who I was and it paled his skin to a pasty white. I'm sure the fact that I was bathed in red didn't help. "Nothing. We were waiting for orders."

"Outside? Outside of a fucking safehouse?" I shoved him back and started down the alley. There were still shots fired and general sounds of meat cleaving pain. Hob was still down there. "Word of advice. When someone orders you to take hostages to a safehouse, take them inside!"

"The puck is after humans deliberately associated with a hostile," a woman gunner snarled as I passed. Her rifle barrel knocked against my arm. "Were not risking our lives for demon-lovers."

My Ka-bar found its way into her kidney under the Kevlar before she even had a chance to pull her lips back down over her white teeth.

"Sorry, I slipped," I grinned and shoved the blade up. Yanking it back out had her body slide down my front, joining the blood that had been drying from her earlier friends. I took up her matte AK-47 by the strap. I still had Ringer's gun and it was aimed at the new commander to keep his flock in check.

None of them moved, but when a battered and bloodied half monster grinned like he wanted very much to flay you slowly I supposed that was an appropriate reaction. "I've said it many times. Now you lose a few men every time I have to repeat myself. Leave my family alone."

"Freak, is that you? I can hardly see a single patch of your Aupheling face under all that macabre horror," a voice cooed like a car salesman spotting a new Gucci suit walking onto his lot. It had a separate guttural hiss of a man far beyond done with this world to it or I might have thought Robin had come to the rescue. Of course, Goodfellow was never asshole enough to call me Aupheling.

Pivoting the modified Glock around, I settled it at Hob's forehead. The insane puck had George in a choke hold, dragging her at his side as he made his way over to me. That was it. Just Georgina.

He held her in front of him like a shield, grinning with his head cocked against her mussed crown of red curls. "I have to say I'm a little surprised to see you. I consistently overestimate humans with weapons. One would think I'd know better considering all the rises and falls I've seen fought with boys and their metal toys."

I dropped the AK-47 and flipped the Ka-bar back out in my other hand. A spray of bullets was no good in an alley, especially with an enemy using a shield.

"Where is my brother? The others?"

"What would you do if I claimed them dead? That I'd taken his blood and strung him up from the flag pole? Would you act in rage, bellow a war cry and come at me swinging like your pitiful human side or would you shrug the loss of your weak human brother and continue to play with me?"

I could hear nothing from the trash dump courtyard behind the building. Just the shift of reinforced nylon and the clip-clop of a mounted police officer daring to get closer.

Georgina let off a whimper, strangled by Hob's remaining forearm. He held the poniard in that hand too. In her struggling, she'd obviously been cut with it a few times, but they were all shallow. Her brown eyes caught mine, keeping me steady.

They were alive. Maybe hurt, maybe unconscious, but alive. I could tell from her certain gaze.

"Now, freak senior," Hob grunted, tightening his arm on George. "I'm going to kill you for this love bite, but I'd prefer you leave for the moment. If not I'll take pleasure in destroying every innocent soul that stands around you right now."

"You think I care about these idiots? Kill them. That would actually help me out." I lowered my gun with a shrug. I couldn't get a kill shot in with George's body covering all his vitals, but he wasn't guarding his legs and I knew he couldn't kill Georgina before he obtained her power. Considering _she_ was currently wearing the Calabassa as a tease, I didn't think the ritual had been finished before I showed.

I motioned with the Glock to the bitch that bleed a decent sized puddle at my feet, back to the other SWAT Vigil and the mounted cop with a helmet visor shading his face. "They've been fucking up my life for a few years now, have at it." On the last syllable, I pulled the trigger. The aim was low and the angle tilted, but all I needed was for that poison to hit a vein.

What it did was blow his leg out from under him. It was his armless side so balance was already off and he dropped down. He took George with him. Forced her into a back bend before she folded her legs to keep from choking. His grip had loosened though and her head bowed giving me a bead on Hob's skull.

I aimed again. The poniard whipped up to cut lightly into Georgina's amber-skinned throat. "You kill me, you kill her."

I had no time for a witty comeback, when a shot sounded from behind. The bullet whizzed through my hair at a downward angle. Slamming into Hob's forehead dead center and splattering his brains all over the concrete like someone dropped a paint can.

It took me a minute to realize he was actually dead. Slowly, I craned my neck to look at whoever was high enough to get that angle and ballsy enough to shoot passed a half-Auphe already pissed off at them.

The mounted police officer holstered the gun, but it wasn't a service pistol or even military grade. It was a black matte Desert Eagle, slightly smaller than standard. Without a word he gave me a nod under that helmet and coaxed his ebony horse around to clop down the street.

A grin pulled at my mouth. There was a shock of white hair at the colt's withers. My son was a genius and he was riding away on his possible future boyfriend. I suppose that meant I was going to have to be nicer to Rio…since Dante obviously snuck out to see him while I was indisposed with his mother. I'd also have to talk to him about that later.

I set my sights on the remaining Vigil cadre. The rookie commander lowered his assault rifle and simply said, "Go. I don't want to fucking deal with you."

I snorted. That sentiment went both ways.

I went over to George. She was shaking and tearing the tiara off her head like it was a dismembered body part, but she looked okay. "They're alive," she told me hoarsely. "He was going back for Niko after he dealt with you."

"Well, we dealt with him instead." I helped her up and we walked back to the carnage behind the safehouse.

There were seven bodies back here now. Severed and sliced in many different manners. Three more were lined up against the brownstone brick and those were the ones I concerned myself with.

George jogged over to Josh's side. He was handcuffed to the bumper of a van parked back here, unconscious and bleeding from a nasty head wound. I listened to her try and coax him awake as I knelt in front of Promise and Niko.

My brother's head was nestled in his lover's lap. Blood soaked his side where he was stabbed deeply, but strategically to cause slow blood loss and no organ damage. He was cut several other places, but none as significant as the gash on his neck. That had caught an artery and a very important one. It had been cauterized, but who knew how much blood he'd lost before that. He didn't have that symbol re-carved into this chest though, apparently I came before the show started after all.

Promise gazed up at me through violet slits. She was sheltered in the small alcove for the back door, but her arm was pinned to the outside wall with one of those fancy daggers Hob loved. She was either too weak or too determined to keep Nik in her possession to pull away. Her arm started out pale at her shoulder, but by the crook of her elbow it brightened to an angry red. Her skin bubbled the farther down it went. Her wrist, palm, and fingers were blackened and peeling away. Violent yellowed red could be seen through cracks in the charred flesh like lava cooling.

I checked my brother's slow pulse, then used both hands to pluck the blade out of the wall. Her hand fell limp to the crumbling concrete. Pieces flaked off everywhere. I lifted it and placed it in the shadows.

"Hob," she whispered, hopeful.

I gave her a small smile, brushing a loose lock of rich brown hair behind her sunburned ear. "Went by way of the weasel."

Promise closed her eyes with the nod she gave me. "Castiella?"

"Safe."

Josh groaned and stirred behind me. I could hear him curing as he worked over the handcuffs. After some brave searching through the bodies littered about the double wide back alley, Georgina brought him the keys. She had found the keys for the van he as attached to as well.

"Hey," I called to him. The battered huntsman fixed his bleary eyes on me. "I need to take these two to our healer. You and George can either drive to a hospital or meet us there."

"Wait," Josh murmured and nearly slammed his face into the bumper he'd just freed himself from. "Hob…"

"Dead. Really dead this time. If you want to stick around and clean up be my guest. You only have to deal with the Vigil now, Apprentice Dent."

He nodded like a man with a massive hangover. "Go. They need help quickly."

Quick as a bunny though a wormhole.

I wrapped the gate around the three of us, gave the camera mounted in the corner of the building a thumbs up for Salamandier, and whisked us away to Katherine's again. She was standing in the lobby with her assistant this time. Her expression was sour when she saw me and the mound of unconscious sallow flesh that was my brother in my arms. Then she saw Promise, the only reason she put up with us, and her lips parted.

"Anna, help Promise to Exam One," Katherine barked then knelt beside me. Her brown eyes flashed obsidian black. "You go sit. You're last."

I let her take Nik and carry him through door number two with her extra vamp strength. I sagged onto my ass for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, and took some deep breaths. My leg was nearly awake now, which made the bullet wound through my thigh ache as badly as stabbing a Charlie Horse with an ice pick. The back of my knee was sore and swollen from the site of the poisoned bullet and my side didn't feel much better.

But Hob was dead, my son was smart enough to figure out how to kill him while remaining anonymous to the Vigil. My brother and George were still breathing and Katherine would keep them breathing. And Cassie…ah, fuck. She was probably fine, but I needed to go check on her Smooth down her hackles that would undoubtedly be up since I left her here.

I hauled up from the linoleum and trudged toward the service elevator. No way was I taking the stairs.


	22. Chapter Twenty One - Josh

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

JOSH

I stared at the bandages wrapped around my wrist and contemplated how impotent I felt. There was another twisted about my vibrating skull like an eighties headband complete with my short hair sticking out in odd directions around it. It was a half-assed job that George was currently giving me the silent treatment for, but it was enough of a patch up to keep me going. I felt like someone had clocked me in a bar fight, which wasn't pleasant, but also didn't constitute a hospital trip.

My fiancé sat next to me on the bus. Legs and arms crossed to show just how closed off she was from me. Her constant glances in my directions belied her concern though. She was upset that I wouldn't get treatment from a professional rather than a first aid kit in the back of the Vigil van. If we'd gone it would have been for her, but she was just as stubborn. A few Band-aids and disinfectant on the little scrapes and gashes on her was enough, she'd declare, and honestly this was true. Out of the lot of us, Georgina came out the best off and that was fine by me.

I sat back in the bus seat and closed my eyes. George's fingers wound around one of my hands and squeezed lightly. "Don't fall asleep."

"I'm just resting my eyes," I replied. We ditched the van…well, we were forced to ditch the van only a few miles from the building. The Vigil caught up to us and slapped some bus fare into my hand; my apprentice badge meant nothing to them. They told us to get out. Take the bus off their island.

George and I were on a bus, heading back to the hostel without a single word of discussion. The penthouse wasn't safe anymore. Hob and the Vigil had unlocked the front door and chucked those sleeping gas bombs in as easy as if we'd welcomed them in and took in a deep accommodating breath. Had to admit none of us saw it coming.

I had no idea how it happened exactly. Who had passed out first, who put up a fight, where they took Castiella and Caliban? Why they separated us?

When I woke up we were still in the van cuffed and with a face-full of rifle. Arnet, Commanding Enforcer until Hob killed him, dragged me out first. Latched me to the bumper and arranged me with questions, lectures, and an impressive collection of profanity. He was the one to tell me they killed Cal – a premature declaration, but Niko heard it then.

Hell broke loose for a picnic as Niko fought them with his vampire lover. The Enforcers contained them only because Promise was singed by the rising sun and Niko was hit with a taser in the ankle…the ankle, yeah, brought down only by volts of electricity to the ankle.

All of us were lined up on the walkway just outside the back of the building. "Waiting for orders," they said.

Hob came by to collect us, but word had already trickled down that this wasn't a good guy. The picnic became an apocalypse. He dispatched three men far too quickly for the other's tastes and the squad retreated, leaving us abandoned to the devious puck. I had to watch him torture Promise to get Niko to fall to his knees. Saw him cut Niko's neck taking his time in heating his blade with a lighter to then cauterize the wound, after gathering the liquid into a vial as a 'back up'.

I thought Niko was dead; he certainly wasn't breathing steady anymore. Hob moved up to George and I don't remember much after that. Judging by the knot on my head and my sloshing brain, I assumed Hob knocked me out for retaliation.

I was beginning to realize why Cal always looked like he was laughing at me when I stepped up to him. I had zero chance of survival in this and the only reason I made it through was because of him. The Vigil feared him because of that power and that will to fuck things up if they rubbed him or his family the wrong way. But that was just it. Leave him alone, leave his loved ones alone and the fear was unnecessary. I'd seen it; he'd much rather be lazing about watching reruns or Twilight Zone and slinging back a beer, or never get out of bed and spend the afternoon tangled in the sheets with Castiella. He was normal in that aspect. Human.

The monster came out when poked. And even that was leashed by those that loved him. If not he would have killed every Vigil human in the area and then taken care of his brother.

"It's no fun giving you the silent treatment when you don't care," George whispered. Her mouth was right up against my ear, making me jolt. I forced a smile and raked a hand over my face.

"It's not that I don't care. I was just thinking too hard." I leaned over and dotted a kiss to her temple, lightly since there was a small bruise there. I stared for a moment, grinning a little more naturally. "You are amazing, beautiful, and so brave. I love you."

She rolled her eyes at the sincere – if not cheesy – line, but it still got me a more extensive kiss. "I love you, too."

After a few blocks with her resting her head to my shoulder she spoke again. "You said you wanted to expose what the Manhattan Chapter is doing. Was that just for show?"

"You know me better than that."

George nodded, her curls crunched with dried blood against my shoulder. She brushed the brown flakes off my thigh. "I want you to."

"Is that it? Are you giving me your blessing?" I snickered.

"I'll be dangerous. We'll be apart and together at the same time. I'll miss you, but you need to get into the back of the van."

Georgina didn't often speak cryptically to me or anyone lately. She told me once that she used to have people lined up in an ice cream shop to have her prompt them on their life's events. She used to give them what she morally could happily. When I met her, she had told me to pick the purple one when the decision arose. It wasn't until our one year anniversary that I understood that she had picked out an amethyst necklace over aquamarine.

After Grimm, it had changed. She looked less and less. Her glimpses into the future, whatever she gleaned, she kept to herself. Saving me from the gate was probably the first time I'd ever seen her break her own rules and give away the end to change the story. She wasn't exactly doing it now, but I could feel her urging me down a particular path.

Her brown eyes were earnest and pleading. I brushed a hand through her curls, dragging my thumb over her bottom lip. "I'll get in whatever van you need me too, but we will not be separated."

George frowned, reset her head on my shoulder and we traveled in silence back to the hostel. The Leandros' would be a while at Katherline's and I needed a shower.

Castiella contacted us later that afternoon. Assured that everyone was alive enough to tough out their injuries. The fact that it was her and not Cal checking in on George was enough of a tell that Niko might have been a bit more touch and go than she let on. I let it go and promised George and I would come by tomorrow before we left for Boston. I didn't want to stick around longer than necessary, but I still needed a good night's sleep before getting behind the wheel and George agreed.

May was happy to see George, bought us lunch, and said she's had a bad feeling hovering around her for the past few days; apparently she did have a little clairvoyance in her. It wasn't until the next morning that a similar sensation hit my gut. I woke with Georgina nearly on top of me on my rented twin bed. She slept soundly, but I was blindsided by nausea and had to jostle her to sit up.

"Josh?" she whispered, since our roommates –a new couple from Bristol – were still sleeping.

I sat on the edge of the bed with her hand rubbing over my back. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Maybe," I shook my head. It hadn't felt like a nightmare, though that was entirely plausible what with the horrors of this week still fresh in my mind.

"Just had this feeling that this isn't over." I glanced over my shoulder at her, capturing a bright auburn curl loose from her braid around my finger. "Any hints soothsayer? Is Hob still alive?"

"I don't know that, but you've seen Cal's kills before. If he says 'really dead' it paints a picture in my head that doesn't leave room for much doubt."

I frowned. "You shouldn't have those pictures in your head."

She propped her chin beside the cap of my shoulder, grinding in the point to cause pain. It actually just worked at a knot in the muscle. "I'm not made of porcelain, Josh. And I've seen far worse. I've seen far worse done to him, but he manages to alter that future without my help each time."

I shifted to face her, one leg pulled up on the bed while she knelt on both of hers. "So it's multiple paths you see?" She never spoke of her gift around me much. I wondered if she spoke to anyone about it. "What happens if I don't get in the mystery van? What if we just hop in the car and go to Boston right now?"

"I'm not sure. We live life unaffected by what's to come, we die in a car crash on our way home in forty years…you're killed in the field leaving me and our two kids all alone. We have a BBQ with the Sullivans down the hall on Sunday—"

I laughed and kissed her to cease her teasing tone. "I get it, I get it. The options are limitless."

"So are the worlds…I'm glad I can only see a few."

My brow pulled in at that comment, wondered what she meant. By her set mouth, she wasn't going to indulge me even if I asked. I kissed her again. "What's the worst, because right now I'm willing to abandon Caliban with his family to stay with you."

"We would be unmade."

"Unmade? Just us?"

She shook her head. I could tell from that tiny motion that no, it wasn't just us. It was _all_ of us. The world. This world, unmade. I took in a deep breath and let it out through my nose, then I promptly climbed over George and pulled the covers in a tent over us.

"Josh, what are you doing?" George squeaked when I trailed kisses down her ticklish neck. She was caught between pushing me away and raking her fingers through my hair.

"Apparently, I'm going to miss you soon, so I suppose I should enjoy you while I can."

"You've been around Cal for too long," she giggled, blushing as my hands wandered. I snickered. Even I had been a bit startled when Cassie dragged her kill-ready boyfriend into their bedroom to screw him into sedation…loudly. But it had got me thinking they had a good idea. In the face of certain death maybe a good screw wasn't the best idea, but in celebration for surviving certain death it most certainly was.

"We aren't alone," George whined. She smiled though, bashfully with a contrasting fire glinting in her eyes. Her hips lifted off the bed when I tugged at the hem of her underwear. Then she grabbed me by the jaw and kissed me.

We didn't make it to Cal's place until lunch time. It still smelled a little funny from the lingering sleeping gas, but most of that had been replaced with the scent of maple syrup and bacon from a breakfast we apparently had missed.

The penthouse wasn't as lively as it had been in the days before. Promise and Niko were both still resting as their special salve could heal the vampire's burns with ease, but replenishing human blood was another matter. Unless you counted saline and bed rest, there wasn't a magic potion for that in their cabinets.

Promise didn't want to leave her lover's side and Cal was constantly peeking in on them like a father leaving his son alone in a room with a pretty girl, which amusingly enough was the exact reason he peeked into his son's room even more frequently. Except it wasn't a pretty girl with Dante, but that púca that gave us the crowns the other night.

Cal was grumpy and wearing a path in the carpet with his limping. With as much of the salve as we were using these last few days, we had depleted their stash and Caliban went without for his bullet wounds. It was honorable, but his discomfort didn't help his disposition.

"Hey," Cassie leaned to the island across from me. I gave her my attention, peeling my eyes away from Cal's pacing. Physically, she had come out of our debacle almost better off than George, though I heard she's been rendered unconscious by the Vigil again. It sickened me; not only was it cruel to purposefully invoke a seizure in someone, but it was a danger to her baby.

I was shocked at first, to find that she was nearly seven months along. She was so tiny. Even if in the short time we'd been here her belly had grown it hadn't been much. Still, it made me seriously consider ditching my fated van, taking George home, and starting a family of our own.

With a tilt of her head and her usual playful smile, Cassie offered me a jump drive in the shape of a yellow tuna sushi roll. I took it with a raised brow.

"You said you wanted it. If you choose to jump down the rabbit hole with the Vigil, you'll need that, but I wouldn't blame you if you go back to Boston and forget all about this."

I waved the drive back and forth. "Still not sure if this is intel or home movies."

"It's everything they've done to me, Cal, and all the other specimens in their cells. Salamandier put it together, so don't blame me for any paranoid encryptions," she tapped her index finger to the plastic seaweed side of the jump drive. "Also we didn't have a chance to put it on there, but they implanted a chip into Cal's brain to explode it on remote frequency."

George and I both straightened and looked back around to the agitated half-Auphe.

"Katherine already took it out, don't worry. It wasn't implanted very deeply," Cassie went on. Well, that explained why his hair, half up in a pony tail, was shaved to stubble along his nape. I though he was trying to bring that style back.

"Cal, leave them alone," Cassie chided, distracted from me and George when her lover looped around in front of Dante's cracked bedroom door. Caliban pointed at the room as he took a few steps toward us.

"It doesn't concern you at all? Our son, who is more innocent and clueless about sex than I was at his age, has some paien jack off—"

"Who helped save all your lives," Castiella interjected with a terse smile Caliban ignored.

"In his room with clear intentions to sully him."

"Did you seriously just use the word 'sully'?"

I had to chuckle at Cassie's deadened tone. Cal opened his mouth to argue, but his lover waved him off and came around the island to scold him face to face. "He's not even a virgin, Cal."

"He's not even sixteen."

Castiella laughed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but welcome to the twenty-first century, dad. Kids screw before sixteen."

It was amusing to watch the two bicker, without any governing hand or signed paperwork or overpriced display of flowers and white satin they were bound. It wasn't only due to the child they argued over or even the child awaiting his time to see the world. It was almost enough for me to believe in soulmates.

I glanced over at Georgina as she smiled in a similar fashion and I took up her hand. "We should go soon." It was almost a question; was it time? She hadn't told me when I would be taking this leap of faith. It could be here and now or it could be in Boston. It could be in six years when she forced me to return to this horrible city so our kids could play with a half-Auphe peri and learn tolerance and indifference to race on a whole other level. But something told me it was sooner rather than later so I waited for her to make the call.

Georgina glanced over at the threshold between the sectioned off living spaces of the penthouse. Niko and Promise appeared as if beckoned by her. I knew better, she had just known they'd be there. I decided then to watch her, caution her if she did it too often. She didn't want to spoil all life's surprises and I'd seen a broken seer before I wouldn't let that happen to her.

I watched her give the bleary-eyed Niko a hug—he was obviously on a cocktail of drugs and, by his stilted movements, wasn't fond of them. She whispered something to him that had his eyebrows furrow, then he nodded.

She kissed him on the cheek and gave Promise a gentle hug as well. I guessed we were leaving.

We made our rounds with who was left in the apartment. The puck, Goodfellow, and his peri lover must have checked in before us because no one seemed concerned with their absence. When Cassie volunteered to see is to the car, Caliban used it as an opportunity to split up his son and Riordyn. Cal obviously didn't want to leave Niko and while his lover asked to see us out, he also wasn't going to let her go alone. So his son got shafted the job.

"You take care of her," Caliban warned, pointing at me. It was a typical 'you hurt her, I'll kill you' look, but with Cal that wasn't an empty threat…and for some reason it made me smile. We shook hands without wrestling for dominance.

"You take care of yours too. I have a feeling George will make me visit and Castiella's better company."

Cal cast an apprehensive look toward Cassie. I knew that look. I saw that look in the mirror for months after George told me about Grimm. It wasn't fear of her leaving by voluntary means, but for the one inevitable means no one could escape.

"We can go to the car on our own, Cal."

He shook his head at my offer. "With the way things have been going, I want to make sure someone sees your tail lights."

So we left the building with me walking beside a hooded Dante, and the ladies gabbing about the mundane in front of us –mostly about how ridiculous Cal was being about Riordyn, who parted ways with us at the front of the complex. It was pleasant, comforting, made me not dread the days to come as I had been. Though clean up was going to be horrendous.

I'd parked six blocks down; I hated valet parking and that was the only way their complex would let me park closer. As I contemplated what I was going to say to Commander O'Rourke in Boston we reached the open lot where I'd parked and another round of goodbyes began.

"Thank you," I said when I shook Dante's hand. He nodded, gray eyes of the same shade as his father and uncle's flickering to their sides in discomfort.

He pulled back from me. No, not discomfort, alarm. I spun around in enough time to see Cassie collapsing against Georgina. Then there was a splash of red across my cheek and a stinging across my left arm. Dante fell to his knees, eyes wide and a quarter-sized hold loosing a steady stream of blood down his front.

Everything happened at once. A brigade of black cars and SUVs lurched from what seemed out of every side streets to screech to a halt and corral us onto the sidewalk. Enforcer uniforms leveled military grade weapons at our backs. One step in front of the other they surrounded us. That sweet little picnic in Central Park at midnight where my son or daughter raced happily through the grass with Connor Leandros snapped like a ripped movie reel. All that was left was murmured voices, the thump of boots to the ground, and dust swirling around us from the tires burning out.

When the dust settled...

It was a phrase so often uttered to convey a sense of dismal completion as a battle declined from the chaotic swell of blood and fire to the single breath one takes before the rest, the result, the effect hits home.

With all my training, I stood frozen and watched. I watched that young body sag forward a second after the echo of the rifle shot. I watched the blood cast splatter patterns over the sidewalk as he fell face first at my feet. My arm was the only thing to move, swinging out to stop George from lunging to their aide. The weight of her warm body against my muscles, snapped me back into motion. It pivoted to grab her arms. I shook her to pull her wide eyes toward me.

"Run," I demanded and shoved her in the direction away from the poor child crumpled on the asphalt, away from the troops closing in. She ran without argument, because she had known this would happen or something akin to it. This was the van I had to jump into.

The Enforcers let her slip between them, let her hide among the civilians that screamed and scrambled to get away from what they undoubtedly thought was a terrorist attack. A drug bust would never need men dressed in SWAT uniforms holding assault rifles.

When I looked back at the tableau before me, I saw the damage they had done in less than thirty seconds. I would have expected the Harbinger to unfurl her wings and rain terror upon us for shooting down her son. Humans, though, they adapted...they learned. Castiella's body was unconscious on the sidewalk a foot from her fallen son but not in mourning. She had folded against George because of the module. For the third time in two weeks the Vigil had pulled the cord on her strings and sent her into a fit, endangering the very life they were trying to obtain. There were two feathered darts in her neck as well. Two for one small girl. They must have shot them at the same time. The Vigil had always been efficient.

They swarmed around me, then shoved me back; I was a apprentice, I was there little pawn. I led them right to this family. I felt a hand clasp my shoulder. I jerked away and seethed at the Enforcer next to me.

"Perfect," the Enforcer muttered, his patch said Maddox, but I didn't recognize him from any of my other meetings with these Manhattan assholes. Maddox made sure to squeeze my shoulder before removing the contact. "Get her up boys, get her tucked in safe before that sedative wears off. The signal block on the Gleipnir isn't reliable anymore and she will not be happy when she wakes."

Of course not, you just killed her son.

I clenched my jaw to prevent from bitterly spitting that at a superior officer. They lifted Cassie up like a little rag doll, not bothering to remove the darts that dug in deeply to her flesh where the men had tough Kevlar for protection. All that protection, all those layers and all it took was a sniper. An attack of a coward; necessary in various situations, but not this. They didn't deserve any of this.

Castiella was lifted into the arms of man armed for a battle that never happened. Another cupped her head like a newborn and away they carted her, toward one of the awaiting vans.

"What are you doing?" I snapped. This chapter was far beyond done with me and I wasn't of any capacity to question an Enforcer, let alone a Commanding Enforcer. There were times where no man could be silent, no matter where his loyalty lied; my father taught me that as well.

I reached out and grabbed onto the shoulder strap of Maddox's uniform. I was fucking done with them too. "Where are you taking her?"

"Get in line, Dent!" He shoved me back with the butt of his carbine.

I should have known. That van wasn't a containment transport that would take her to a cell to protect humanity from an unstable killer, which I knew at this point wasn't even needed. They were taking her to the labs. They were carting her off to do _more _experiments on her!

"Sir!" I turned to the commanding officer, hoping I didn't look as desperate as I felt. "You can't take her right now! She's too close to the end of her pregnancy—"

"Precisely and with her lover dead wouldn't it be more humane of us to help her in this stressful time?" My blood ran cold as he leaned in, flicking my lapel in warning. "Get your gear on and fall in line, Dent."

He thought it was Caliban. That body on the ground, face-flat and hidden under a black hoodie. He thought it was Caliban, not Dante. I had never felt more relieved of my omission until now. We hadn't been positive they were unaware of Dante's existence. I was pretty positive now. Though not telling them at this time would be allowing them to take a time bomb into their midst. I was okay with that.

With his son murdered and his love taken, Caliban would kill them all. He had behaved last time only because he blamed himself. The Vigil had poked the beast too hard, too often. He would slaughter every last one of them and I could be on that list if I stayed.

"What do you plan for her?"

"She is a threat, Dent."

"Not now. Not with the family she had!"

He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and shook me once. "We are the weak here, son. That creature has more power than any god intended one soul to have. You signed up to protect the ones you love from monsters like her. Don't lose sight of that over a little bloodshed. This world is better without the likes of them."

"Then why don't you just kill her now?" It was a gamble. It was a cruel thing to say and not something I wanted to occur, but I knew she would die the moment she heard her son had been killed, the moment she opened her eyes to a world without him.

He smiled, the scar to the left of his mouth deepening in the shadows. "You'll understand one day, Dent. The humans need a weapon to fight this war. Either you accept that and join the cause that I know you once believed in or you walk away and hope your pretty delusions become a reality."

Dante had said something in a random moment of quiet in the penthouse; the words drifted through my skull as I watched the crew mill around his body, planting evidence for whatever story they wished this scene to tell. 'You will not be punished for your anger, but be punished by your anger'. Wise words from a young child called a monster. He knew faith, knew religion, and he understood the spirituality of humans better than we did.

Anger would resolve nothing. Storming off to tell Caliban what had been done would only serve to increase my guilt. I couldn't do that. I never thought the van George was talking about would be literal. I glanced over at the open doors of the laboratory van; a gaping maw challenging me, daring me, to stretch the limits of my humanity, my faith, and my cause.

If there was a god he had given Castiella that power for a reason. To rid us of the plague Auphe, to show lost souls how to love when every fiber of their genetics screamed for wrath and blood. We, the humans – God's favored creatures – had sullied his greater and lesser creations time and time again.

I set my features and stalked over to the van. Maddox eyed me when I hoisted up onto the bed, but he saw stone resolve in my face and smiled again. I'd made my choice not to walk away and he would take that as loyalty to the cause. The cause to protect humanity. In this case to protect them from themselves and the monsters they'd become. I sat on the bench farthest from the stretcher Castiella was strapped to, wariness clear in my heart.

I was Vigil. Cal had been violently distrusting of me for keeping that secret. I knew as their ranks closed in he grew increasingly more leery of me. He would never believe I wasn't behind this, but would Cassie? She might kill me for what has been done, but I had to chance it.

If they hadn't clipped her wings, if her gates were in her power I had not doubt the deaths would be ours not Dante's. She had only wanted to see George and me off. Compassionately and genuinely wanted to wish us well and I gave her an ambush. One I didn't orchestrate, but one I should have seen coming.

The van rattled over a pothole and Castiella's head rocked toward me, almost looking as if she were just sleeping peacefully. She was beautiful; soft features of an angel and an allure that transcended aesthetics. Just like George.

What would happen now? Would Cal fret for his family taking too long away from him and find his son among the poorly constructed scene of a drug deal gone wrong? Would George go to him and try to convince him of my innocence? Would she be protected with him?"

"Dent, right? Apprentice Dent?" One of the soldiers spoke up next to me. He pulled his mask down to speak more freely, revealing the unsuspecting face of someone ordinary I could have gone to high school with. I nodded and he gave me a celebratory pat on the shoulder. "Well, 'apprentice' for now, I suppose. Good job, man. You managed to catch Charlemagne's Queen."

I felt as if my blood had stopped pumping at a normal temperature at the sound of the rifle. Those words only served to stop my heart altogether. Charlemagne. The project name for one of the high risk and highly classified experiments. Rumors flew through the apprentices and their mentors constantly regarding it, but I knew now. I knew the connection because I knew the prized rat they held in their lab. Grimm.

What...had I done?


	23. Chapter Twenty Two - Epilogue

EPILOGUE

CAL

The blood pulsed in my ears faster than my feet slammed against the linoleum. Every fiber of my body fought against my brain's decision not to rip open the void and travel to my son's side whether I knew his location or not. There were too many factors, too many corridors to gate between, and too many humans to witness the horror. Not that I gave a shit about those staring aghast at me and Nik as we bolted through the hospital toward the ER wing. A father severed in half by a wall from a misled gate wouldn't do anything to protect my son. So I fought my nature and just relied on my super-powered genes to take me down the corridors faster than my currently-anemic ninja brother.

He shouldn't have been here. Dante shouldn't have been here and there were so many levels to that. I didn't know how he got here, but it didn't matter. I needed to get him out. I needed to get to him. I wasn't going to lose him again.

There was blood everywhere. Even unseen I could smell it. _They would cut him up. They would slice and section and test and tease. Just another experiment to be categorized in death._ Dante!

When we got to the surgery room alarms were blaring –might have had something to do with the four security guards we took out to get here. I didn't know if their pulses remained, but mine felt like it would burst my eardrums at that sight of him.

He was on their table. They were tearing him apart. White smocks and white masks. Blood on their hands like the butchers they were. His chest wide opened, their hands inside. His blood stung my nose combined with antiseptics. At the drawing of my gun, the surgeons scattered. Their voices were muffled and indiscernible. I squeezed the trigger and caught the leader in the shoulder. He cried out, grabbed the nearest nurse and shoved her to the door Niko held open. They were calling for security, for more help to separate me from my son.

_No, no. Mine. He is mine. They couldn't have my kin. They were too weak, too pitiful to touch him._

The line on the monitor was flat. The shrill steady hum careened through my skull in dissonance with the alarms. Niko blocked the door, once we were alone, but I knew it was for nothing.

I'd lost them again. I'd lost him forever.

I vaulted up from my bed, drenched in my own sweat and probably some tears. My arm extended with my finger on the trigger of my Desert Eagle aimed at the empty space between my bed and the door. As if there was something tangible I could take my fury out on. I stayed like that, regulating my breathing and realizing what nightmares had woken me up. Unfortunately, the escape from one reoccurring nightmare only made me acutely aware that there was no shift on the bed beside me, no warm hands drifting over my abdomen to calm my racing heart.

The Eagle eased down to my tangled sheets. I flipped on the safety and tossed it to the foot of my bed. The images were still haunting, like a phantom limb I could feel Cassie's fingers dancing over my hunched shoulders. It did nothing to shut off the gore flashing under my eyelids. All those times Niko had evaded the hospitals for me and then my son got shipped off to one when we hadn't even known he was in trouble.

It'd been a month, but…

Blood was speckled everywhere; in tins, on silver knives, all along the sickly green sheet that covered my son. The vice wedged between the gap in his breast plate was cranked enough to spread his ribs and show his organs within. Blushes, rubies, violets, and whites all in view. It was a lesson in anatomy I never wanted.

The whine of the flat line filled every second of white noise, a memory that wouldn't fade. It was like this every night. The TV must have turned off at some point on sleep mode. It usually kept the high ringing at bay, but I didn't turn it on again –the sound was already in my head.

I shoved off the little bit of sheets still over me and pulled my body from the mattress. The ghost of Cassie's presence seemed to snap with that movement. I could barely smell her on the sheets anymore. I dropped my head to one hand and rubbed my fingers over my brow as I left the room.

Very little could quiet the chaos in my head right now. One of the few things that did work was staring introspectively at Dante's bed. The sheets were pulled back, since he never saw a reason to make it purely for aesthetic reasons. He got that from me, I supposed; though his arguments were always so much cleverer than my lazy comments. His scent, unlike his mothers, still clung to everything, which was why – even if he wasn't there – it calmed me to stand in the threshold and breathe in.

I heard the rumble of the sliding balcony door open then shut behind me. Felt, more than heard, the footsteps approaching. There was no hesitation. He stood right behind me, like my brother always did; supporting –making me aware I wasn't alone. His hands gripped at the fabric of my damp shirt. Paying no heed to the sweat, he dropped his forehead between my shoulder blades.

"I'm right here, dad."

I closed my eyes at that soft voice; the gore and nightmares cleared and the white noise muffled to a usual static. Staring at his bed helped, but seeing him was an instant remedy. Dante curled compliantly into my arms when I turned and pulled him close. "I love you, little Ace."

"I love you, dad." He pulled back and let me restrain him further by holding his face square to me. I would never have though I'd be happy my child was part Auphe. Never thought I'd be happy to say his heart wasn't 'in the right place'. My son was alive. It didn't stop the nightmares, but it was more than worth it to see him gazing back at me, when I opened my eyes.

"I'm here," he repeated, grasping my wrists. There was a vulnerable gap in his breast plate where it was still healing (bone took much longer than flesh) and scar tissue on his left lung that neatly matched the scarring on his right from a previous injury, but his heart remained untouched. Tucked away and hidden, almost centered behind his spleen. It was the same spot Hob had skewered me during our first meeting. It was where the Auphe held their shriveled, little black things. Dante's was human shaped, unmarred and perfect. I saw it when Niko followed the arteries to the organ, shoved his hand inside my son, and started pumping it manually.

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," I assured him. "I've got you…now we just need to get your mom back."

He smiled and nodded once. "We will."

_Then we will kill them all._


End file.
